Nuggets from Pickens
Sad to say, ol’ Loney had a bit of a dustup with some gunpowder down at the town’s fireworks foldrol this evenin, so I’m takin over for a bit. Yep, it’s me folks, Hank Pickens, your resident cowdude, international spy, and hero of outer space. Resident may be stretching it, seeing as how I don’t reside a piece much of anywhere. Gotta ride that lonesome trail. Sail down (or up, depending on which anti-quantational dimensionide you use) that starshine highway.
Don’t you worry ‘bout Loney none, he’ll be fine. Never was much to look at anyways. And who needs hair when you got a hat?
Can’t say much about where I been lately, national secret and all, but you can be sure it involved that dadblasted Evil Mr. X. You can also be sure he’s down a few minions. Laser tag ain’t so much fun when you’re usin’ real lasers.
Took a bit of a holiday to Arcturus, too, a while back, though it was a workin holiday. Put up a cosmic corral around the Cowzonians, down by where that gaseous globule draws in a bit toward the quasar out beyond Last Hole Stargulch.
Here’s hoping Lone Wolf feels better soon, and my very best wishes to this dear country o’ mine for a hoot hollerin’ Happy Birthday! Been 233 years since our foredaddys laid down the good laws.
Oh say!
Hank
This is just brilliant, Hank! Made me wanna get out my Hanky, wipe my tears and blow a big one.
Jim
Well thank you kindly, Jimbo! I learnt my manners from Granny Pickens, so you might reckon I ain’t too particular. You go on ahead now and blow you a big one if you feel it comin. Won’t bother me none.
Hank