The Literary Drover No. 89

[Humor from Down Under, about the American West.]

A young cowboy sitting in a saloon one Saturday night recognized an elderly man standing at the bar who, in his day, had been the fastest gun in the West.

The cowboy took a place next to the old-timer, bought him a drink and told him of his great ambition to be a great shot. “Can you give me some tips,” the young man asked.

The old man said, “Well, for one thing, you’re wearing your gun too high – tie the holster a little lower down on your leg.

“Will that make me a better gunfighter?’‘

“Sure will.”

The young man did as he was told, stood up, whipped out his .44 and shot the bow tie off the piano player.

“That’s terrific!” said the cowboy.

“Got any more tips?”

“Yep,” said the old man. “Cut a notch out of your holster where the hammer hits it – that’ll give you a smoother draw.”

’‘Will that make me a better gunfighter?”

“You bet it will,” replied the old-timer.

The young man took out his knife, cut the notch, stood up, drew his gun in a blur, and then shot a cufflink off the piano player. “Wow! I’m learning something here. Got anymore tips?”

The old man pointed to a large can in a corner of the saloon. “See that axle grease over there? Coat your gun with it.”

The young man smeared some of the grease on the barrel of his gun.

“No,” said the old-timer, “I mean smear it all over the gun, handle and all.”

“Will that make me a better gunfighter?” asked the young man.

“No,” said the old-timer, “But when Wyatt Earp gets done playing that piano, he’s gonna shove that gun up your arse and it won’t hurt as much.”