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Well, holy mother-of-pearl.
It's that *** that hit me on the head with the shovel.
What the hell do you think you're doin', boy?
Watch that "boy" ***, redneck.
You're talking to the sheriff of rock ridge.
Well, now, if that don't beat all.
Here we take the good time and trouble
To slaughter every last indian in the west,
And for what?
So they can appoint a sheriff
That's blacker than any indian.
I am depressed.
I hate to see you like this.
What if me and the boys
Was to shoot that *** dead?
Would that pep you up some?
That might help.
On a count of 3.
I wouldn't do that if I were you.
Don't pay no attention to that alky.
He can't hold a gun.
On a count of 3.
1...
2...
3!
Ha ha!
Woo!
Well, don't just sit there lookin' stupid,
Grasping your hands in pain.