Cool Hand Pretty lit a cowboy killer and looked out over the ranch. There was a soft clicking in the breeze as her sabre blew against her leg in the breeze. She walked into the cabin and hung it above the fireplace. It had been a good war, from which she had just returned.
Around four pm there was a commotion outside, and it made Pretty put down her sweet tea to investigate. Upon making it outside she saw three Indians riding towards the ranch. She drew her bolt-action and crouched behind her horse's drinking trough. She could swear the water was rippling from the sound of the horseman approaching. She drew a bead on one of them, and fired. He fell out of the saddle, spooking the other horse who crashed into a billboard for KFC.
As she approached the wounded men, one of them cried out "No, please, no! We have only just arrivings from Bombay, madam!"
"Outsource this..." Pretty said, kicking our Asian friend's head into the dust.
Pretty ran back to the cabin. If they were outsourcing the jobs of the Native Americans to India she would have to move fast. She packed her guns, a substantial amount of wine, and for some reason the single wheel of a stagecoach(?)
She arrived into town sometime after sundown. She went into the watering hole and looked around. He had to be here. Sir Dave Willingston, a colonial settler.
"There he is!" she exclaimed, seeing the monocle of a man devouring a chicken and mushroom pie and drinking an IPA.
"Pretty!" he returned exclaimation "How the devil are you this fine evening?!"
"Mighty fine, y'all...But what do you know about these here Native American jobs being outsourced?" she quizzed.
"Terrible business" she shuddered "Seems everytime we ring our call centres in blighty because our rifles have gone kaput, we are put through to them."
All at once a card-playing man stood up and drew his weapon.
"That is not snap, sir!" he roared
"Near as dammit, y'all!" the other man screamed.
Pretty drew her rifle and kicked the table over.
"Do ya mind, Sweetie? I'm trying ta conduc' a lil bidness."
"How about we both play?" the first man said "If I win I get a bottle of that there wine in your pack!"
"But what if I win, y'all?" Pretty asked.
"I tell you where the Indian camp is on this map" she replied.
She took a seat without saying another word.
He drew a card.
Pretty drew a card.
He drew a card.
Pretty drew a card.
He drew a card.
Pretty drew a card.
He drew a card.
Pretty drew a card.
He drew a card.
"SNAP!" she proclaimed firing her gun wildly in the air.
She settled up and left with the map in hand.
She rode further on due south towards the camp. She got a text
I just ordered some chips, and they've brought me a bag of Lays!
How do you live with these savages?!
Sent 2 minutes ago from DaveWillingston's iPhone
She had scarcely read the text when she happened upon a family gathered around a crashed wagon.
"Please help us, Miss!" a child came running from wreckage.
"Evening, young sir." she tipped her hat.
"Our caravan has lost a wheel, and if we stay out here for much longer we'll surely be eaten by coyotes" the child bawled.
"Well..." pondered Pretty "I do have a wheel naw, but I am strangely attached to the old thing..."
"Please!" pleaded the boy "Mother is sick...We will give you this baseball signed by the Oakland A's"
"Why I oughtta lynch y'all right naw!" Pretty said fighting back her hatred for that team.
"Ok, what about this Rose. It's a good year!" back-pedalled the boy.
"Alright" said Pretty throwing down the 100 pound ornament to the 60 pound boy.
She rode off drinking her spoils.
When she arrived at the Indian camp, it looked like the Elephant Graveyard from Lion King, but she didn't know that because it hadn't come out yet. She dismounted her steed and tiptoed into the camp.
"It's know that beautiful tinkling of spurs anywhere..." came a voice from the darkness.
She could smell cowboy killers (which was oh-so-fitting given the situation). She saw a dot of fire in the shadows that stepped forward. It was Strumming with Eagles.
"Well, hello, Darl!" Pretty said embracing the young raggamuffin and kissing him affectionately on the headdress.
"There is no time for pleasantries, noble white woman" S.W.E said pushing her away "We must head further into the camp and dispatch our common enemy...That's a really nice bolo tie by the way."
"Oh bloody hell, Sanjeev. We have received smoke signals telling us that Cool Hand Pretty is coming!" they heard from around the fire.
But it was too late Strumming With Eagles had been hit by arrows.
He lay dying in Pretty's arms.
"Whe..." he choked.
"What is it, y'all?" she said through flowing tears.
"Wher...*cough*
"YES?! What is it?!" she said holding him closer.
"Where...is...My hat?" he collapsed and the camera panned out and then focused on the dawning sun on the horizon.
THE END