Where was I?
Oh, yes. I had just squinted around in the feed barn, and I had discovered something amazing!
Actually, it wasn't all that surprising.
I saw a welding tool sitting on the ground.
This was typical cowboy work.
You see, the cowboys on this outfit never bother to put anything up.
They'll finish using it, drop it, then go off to something else.
I had no idea how the welding tool had gotten to the feed barn.
Actually, I did have a pretty good theory.
The cowboys were working on something that involved a welding tool.
When they were done, they stuck the tool in their pocket, and walked over to the feed barn.
Once at the feed barn, the tool dropped from their pockets and clattered to the ground.
In other words, I have just revealed the organization on this outfit.
Would you like to see how they treat their other tools?
We don't usually give out that information, because our enemies are always listening in, and taking notes.
But, I don't think it would hurt to give you a quick glimpse into the organization.
OK, here we go.
TOP SECRET
For dogs only!
File 54534543
Codename: Dishrag
(SAMPLE)
Ropes: tangled up on the wall of the Machine Shed.
Saddles: stacked up on the desk in the saddle shed.
Welders: strewn wherever light never reaches.
Cowboy boots: strewn across the closet in the house. You can never find two shoes that go together. When you look at Slim Chance, you can see that he's wearing different colored boots on each foot. No kidding.
Chicken feed: stuffed in the Machine Shed along with our Co-op dog food. Sometimes, the elite troops of the security division mistake chicken feed for dog food, and start crunching on it. Don't ever eat chicken feed. It's garbage. And I don't understand how chickens can stand to eat the stuff!
End of Top Secret File
So there you have it, a quick peek into the way we run this ranch.
Pretty shoddy if you ask me.
But nobody ever does, so just skip it.
But what was it that Loper had mentioned that was making him so angry?
Something about coons.
I squinted, and looked deeper into the darkness of the shed.
Oops.
There appeared to be three ripped, half empty sacks laying on the floor.
Or maybe they were half full.
Were they half empty or half full?
Never mind.
The point is, is that Slim, Loper, and I all stood around the Feed Shed, staring at the ripped feed sacks with disgusted expressions.
Dumb coons.
They thought that they could raid my feed barn! ON MY RANCH! I took that as a personal insult!
Not just to me, but to the entire nation of cowdogs all over the world!
OK, mostly me, though.
And, so, we continued to give the feed barn disgusted looks and glares.
Then, Slim and Loper turned their glares on...
HUH!
ME!
"Hank, you moron! Where were you when the feed barn was being raided?"
Uh...
"Barking your fool head off in the middle of the stupid night!"
But... How had... I wasn't...
And so, Slim and Loper just stood there, and glared at me, while I roasted under them.
Well, I knew what I had do.
I rushed away from the scene.
I knew that Drover and I had to prepare for a camp out at the feed shed.
For you see, my spiritual whatever told me that the coons would be back, tonight.
I knew right where to find Drover.
I marched up to the Machine Shed, where I found him cowering under one of Loper's old blankets.
I kicked him out, and told him to prepare for a night job.
He moaned and cried, but I didn't care.
"THIS LEG'S KILLING ME!"
I pushed him out of the Machine Shed, and marched him to the Gas Tanks.
"OK, son, get some sleep." I said, yawning. "We have to get up at eight o'clock, tonight, to watch for the return of the racoons."
"HELP!"
It took me fifteen minutes of brainless conversations, but finally, Drover fell asleep, and began his series of grunts and wheezes and other weird noises I didn't have classifications for.
Calvin and Hobbes came back from their dumb game, and went back into the house.
Then, the cowboys went into the house, for lunch.
That left me alone.
I knew that the suspense of waiting for the big night would keep me awok, awake, that is, but I knew in my bleepest heart of mumble... That is, in my deepest heart of heart I knew I would nebber ball a gliggle into muttering sleep.
Snorkle, the murk... that is, I knew the temptation to drift off into muttering sleep was very powdery, but so was my grumb blumb the simble the...
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
OK, maybe I fell asleep.
Who wouldn't have fallen asleep?
I was worn to a frazzle.
A nubbin. A shadow of my former self.
So yes, I fell asleep, and caught a few winks of sleep before I woke up, and realized that it was night.
I saw by the position of the sun that it was exactly eight o'clock.
I turned to the sleeping lump of twitching, grunting fur in front of me.
Drover.
I glared at him, and told him to wake up.
"GET UP, HALF STEPPER! ARISE AND SING!"
He leaped several feet in the air, and yelped.
"YEEK!"
If I hadn't have stopped him, he would've streaked off to the Machine Shed.
But I did, and told him to prepare for the night guard.
He didn't want to do it.
He moaned and cried, but I didn't listen.
I mean, if you listen to Drover all the time, you'll never hear the end of it.
We marched up to the feed shed.
The night was dark, but warm.
We marched up to the feed shed, and stationed ourselves in front of the door.
The front of the door, you see, is warped at the bottom.
It's warped so much, that a racoon or even a dog could crawl underneath it, and enter the barn.
This job had needed to be fixed for years.
You'd think the cowboys would hop to the job of fixing the door, so it didn't get raided all the time.
Ha!
What a joke.
You tell them about the warp in the door, and all at once, they have a million jobs to do, they're in the middle of a depression, and can't buy any more wood, and, of course, it's to hot to be doing such jobs.
Kinda shoddy way to run a ranch if you ask me.
Anyway, we marched ourselves over to the front of the feed barn, and sat down in front of it.
For a long time, we just waited.
I kinda...yawn... wished it was more light out.
But the only light we had came from the...yawn... moon.
I blinked my eyes, several times.
I turned to Drover.
"Drover, I'm falling asleep, quick, do something to keep me awake."
Drover yawned.
"YAWN... uh, OK. Let's see here... YAWN..."
"Must you yawn?" I demanded.
"Well, I... I... YAWN... can't help it."
"Of course you can help it! It's very rude and uncouth to yawn... YAWN... there you see! You have me yawning, now!"
"YAWN! Well, I can't help it."
"You just said that."
"I know."
"Then why did you... YAWN... repeat yourself?"
"Well, I... YAWN... I don't know. I'm liable to say anything, I'm so... YAWN... tired."
"YAWN!"
"YAWN!"
"YAWN!"
I leaped to my feet, and paced around in a circle.
"Drover, this is getting serious. I need to stay awake for when the coons come. Can you think of anything to keep me aw... YAWN ... awake?"
"Well, let's see. I don't... YAWN... know. You might try waking yourself up by... YAWN ... hitting yourself with something."
I glared at the runt.
"Hit myself with something! Why would I do that?"
"Well, if you... YAWN ... hit yourself, then you'll wake up, and you won't yawn anymore."
I yawned, and contemplated that.
"Drover, you may have a point. Alright, I'll run into the feed barn and see what help it does. Let's just hope my enormous body won't tear the entire foundation down."
"Yeah, that's... YAWN... that's something to worry about."
"Stand back, Drover, it's time to launch all... YAWN... dogs."
I took a step back, and aimed myself at the feed barn.
I prepared to Launch All Dogs, hit the feed shed, and cause the yawning muscles in my yawnitory system to become paralyzed for the night, and I'll stop yawning.
Yes, I know, this is pretty complicated, but bear with me.
I flipped several switches on the control panel of DC (Data Control), and prepared for the LAD procedure.
I threw dust up, and roared forward towards the wall.
I must have thrown up several trees and tore up various bushes and gravel as I went screaming towards the wall.
It came roaring up, and I knew my yawning would all be over in five... four... three... two... one...
CRASH!
I must have miscalculated the speed that my feet was propelling me.
The collision was certainly more hard than I expected it to be.
And suddenly, I was laying on my back, staring up the stars and checkers circling my head.
And as if that was worse enough, the collision hadn't... YAWN... Gotten rid of my stupid yawns.
I picked myself up, and turned a glare on Drover.
"Drover, I'm afraid this will have to go into my report."
"But..."
"Don't argue with me! This was your dumb idea from the start, so you're going to take the blame!"
"Oh darn."
I marched away from the little lunatic, and sat down several feet away from the door.
Dumb door. It didn't even have a dent in it.
YAWN.
Dumb yawns.
I must have sat up for ten more minutes before I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, and I had to go to sleep.
Yes, I fell asleep.
I'm proud that I fell asleep.
Falling asleep is a lot more less painful than running into a dumb feed barn wall.
Well, the next thing I knew, it was morning.
The morning sun was coming down onto me, and I was awakened.
I got up, stretched all four legs, and yawned.
Yes, I yawned.
WOW!
Wonderful sleep.
Well, I was sitting there, being happy and warm, when all at once, a long shadow fell over me.
I opened my eyes, and stared into the eyes of some kind of unknown creature.
The creature had terrible yellow horns sticking out of his head.
He was red, and striped at the chest and belly.
Good grief! There was a horrible horned thing on my ranch!
I leaped to my feet, and set a barrage of code three barking at it.
It raised it's arms over it's horned head, and screeched.
"I COME FOR HANK THE COWDOG!" It shrieked in a high pitched voice.
YIKES!
I hit full reverse, and zoomed in the opposite...
CRASH!
I backed right into a tree.
The creature moved forward, growling a low terrible growl.
A strip of hair on my back shot straight up, and I started growling at the creature.
Except it wasn't a growl.
It came out like more of a gargle. Or a yodel.
The creature began to move forward, his legs stiff, as he walked towards me with its arms over his head.
Oh and he was growling.
And... chuckling?
He was chuckling.
Now why would he...
I growled and gurgled and gargled at the monster.
But then, HOLY SMOKES!
The monster leaped through the air, and lunged for me with it's horrible yellow horns flying towards me!
And then...
I'm sorry but this next part can not be read by anyone under the age of 35. Too scary.
Sorry.
