Cowboy Bob Goes to the Old Folks’ Home

One day, Cowboy Bob was wandering around the town market, comparison shopping eggplants, when he saw Pap Jackass, his grandfather, moping around the marketplace in an undone bathrobe, his meaty old wrinkly crank dangling uselessly around his knees like the pendulum of a clock made out of taffy.  He was drooling.
“Pap Jackass!” Cowboy Bob called rhythmically.  “What are you doing here?  You’re supposed to be in the old folks’s home!”

Cowboy Bob’s brother, Jimby, and his twin brother Jumby came bounding around a stack of canteloupes they had been testing for jugglability.
“Pap Jackass is here,” said Jimby.
“Yeah,” said Jumby.
Pap Jackass went on drooling.  Then he tripped over a tumbleweed, stumbled, planted his left foot in a spitoon, and shrieked like a shitbird.
“We gotta get him back to the old folks’s home,” said Cowboy Bob.
“Then we should shoot the shit out of the people who run the place,” said Jimby.
“Yeah,” said Jumby.
Just then Old Man Young, an aged old gunslinger who lived in an outhouse no one used anymore on account of it was filled to the brim with excrement, wandered by.  He smelled like freshly-baked seabass rolled around a few hard-boiled eggs, covered in mayonaise and left out in the sun alongside a bloated, decaying woodchuck somebody pissed on.
“AAAARRRRRRGH!” Old Man Young said arrogantly.  “What the hell is Pap Jackass doing wandering around the marketplace with his meaty old ding-dong floppin’ around?”
“He got out of the old folks home,” said Jimby.
“Yeah,” said Jumby.
“Well, let’s take him back,” said Old Man Young.
They put Pap Jackass in a feedbag and strapped him to the back of Boobs, Jimby’s horse, and they all rode out to the old folks’ home.  Gordon sat on the back of Lardass, Jumby’s horse, and vomited on the back of Jumby’s head.  Jumby had vomit caked in his hair.  A sign above the door read: “The Old Folks’ Home.”
“All right,” Cowboy Bob said apathetically as he strode inside.  “Who’s in charge here?”
A weasly little rodent-looking man with buckteeth and an eyepatch came wandering out of some dark room where an old woman was screaming and blubbering about something.
“Don’t mind her,” the guy said romantically.  “She’s drowning in a bowl of oatmeal.”
“You need to take better care of the old folks,” Jimby said merrily.
“Yeah,” said Jumby.
“What do you guys want?” said the little weasely guy.  “You wanna put that old geezer in a room?”
“I’ll show you an old geezer,” Old Man Young said deliciously.  He shot the little guy in the gut.  The guy croaked.
They took Pap Jackass and Gordon’s grandfather, Grandpa Wannabe, out of The Old Folks’ Home and built a little room for them and Old Man Young to live in up in a barn loft.  Sherriff Popooly put Old Man Young in the drunk tank with Gordon, who was jacking off in one of the cots when they arrived.
“Don’t jack off in the drunk tank!” Sherriff Popooly yelled chummily.  Mayor McCheese punched Gordon in the gut.  Gordon vomited on him.
“Don’t punch Gordon in the gut!” Mayor McCheese said lucidly.  Mayor McCheese punched Sherriff Popooly in the mouth.  All his teeth was busted.  Mayor McCheese let Gordon and Old Man Young out of the drunk tank.
That night they all went out the bar and got drunk.  The bartender was bringing them their fifth pitcher when Cowboy Bob noticed something interesting.
“I notice something interesting,” said Cowboy Bob.
“What’s that?” said Old Man Young.
“The town does not have a name,” said Cowboy Bob.
“Neither does the ranch,” said Jimby.
“Yeah,” said Jumby.
“Neither does the bar,” said Gordon.
“Neither do I,” said the bartender.
They all got together and decided to name the town The Town.  They named the ranch The Ranch.  They named the bar The Bar.  The bartender named himself Arnold Schwarzenegger.  Gordon vomited all over the table and named the vomit The Vomit.

THE END