The Code of the West was rather hard to understand from the perspective of an outsider, but Boothill Buzzard knew that he had not only broken it, but had trampled it. From the day that he first joined the COW Bullies after reading about them in the paper while he was working his shift at the graveyard. Although he did have fun getting rich quick, it just wasn't worth all the trouble. All too often, he was simply reduced either lugging around heavy loads or dressing as a lady. Not that he minded any of it much. That is, he didn't particularly mind the dressing up but carrying heavy packages for the Masked Bull didn't exactly work wonders on his back. He did at least enjoy the company of Saddlesore Scorpion, even if the scorpion teased him and even if the Masked Bull, Mayor Bulloney, Saddlesore, and everyone else thought him a foolish old bird. But sometimes he still longed for his old job at the graveyard, for the days when he wasn't treated as a criminal but simply as a resident. He only thing that he would change was that he would be more grateful for his position in life as opposed to yearning for adventure, which he had done even as a chick. Now ever since he had began chasing his dream, he had been shunned and ruthlessly pursued as if he were a varmint. Even if he hadn't moved into a life of crime, he still would have retired shortly anyway. So it was every evening, Boothill always had something to reflect on before bed.