At dusk in Crazy Woman, WY the drunks had

At dusk in Crazy Woman, WY the drunks had gathered behind the Wash-o-Rama. Phil checked his watch then chugged the last of his wine. "Gotta go, guys, I've got better things to do."

Phil stood up from skid row, snapped his suspenders, and made a bee line to the Salvation Army soup kitchen. "I need a gal!" he yelled. Pickin's were slim in Crazy Woman, WY.

But somewhere en route to his bowl of slop, Phil's way was blocked by a horde of female zombies. Another pack suddenly appeared from behind, and now his only hope was to enter

the narrow passage on the ceiling, trying to escape. The female zombies bellowed beneath him as he crawled towards freedom, until he felt a bony hand grasp his boot

and firmly remove it. Then it began to tickle him under the arch of his foot, his only ticklish spot. He decided, zombie or not, this was the women he'd been looking for.

They had blackish hair and green eyes.

It wasn't much to go on, but the drunken cowboy was determined to win that reward. So he packed up his few belongings and set off in search of the green eyed, blackish haired

toothless rodent the locals called Gumzilla that was rumored to haunt the plains of Wyoming. The drunken cowboy spent many a night listening for its plaintive call, but only suc

ceeded in snagging a wounded wolf that was begging to be put out of its misery. Even then, the drunken cowboy needed 12 shots. Despair settled into his heart. What would his Mother

think if she could see him now? Dragging the Stetson from his pounding head,the cowboy slumped into a dusty corner of the saloon & prayed. "Sorry, Mama. I shoulda listened to you."