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Re: My Chances of being a Cowboy


I’ll probably never be a cowboy. There are a lot of reasons for this, but most importantly is probably the fact that I’m really, really uncomfortable wearing skinny jeans and the idea of wearing a bolo-tie just bugs the piss out of me.


Also, I have terrible fashion sense for a frontier’s man.


Oh, and I’m really, really bad at controlling a horse.  I mean, like, inhumanly bad.


Seriously, pity me if horses return as the primary conveyance. I’ll have to use a modified dogsled or something.

Mountain_ManNow, I probably could have been a decent mountain man, but that’s based solely on my ability to grow a burly and kick-ass beard. I’m not sure if there are any other requirements to be a burly mountain man, but I’m also pretty decent with a rifle, AND I’m willing to double as a tired old gold prospector should the need arise.


Oh, and I’m 30% certain I can scare the piss out of someone before I cook them breakfast. I think that’s a requirement also. I’d apprentice under Burt Reynolds of course, just until I had all the basics down, then strike out on my own.


I’d probably get tired of the bear skin underpants, though. I imagine they’d keep my giblets far too warm.


Now, a Space Cowboy on the other hand, this is what I was built for. It has recently been brought to my attention that I already have all of the prerequisites for this particular profession, minus the kick ass coat, spaceship and blaster pistol.

Which means I have the other 2: Snarky wit and a Tall Furry friend who is good at hand to hand combat.

See, you guys thought I kept a yeti around simply because burning incense in his molted horn keeps demons from being able to devour my dog, but the that’s just one of the many beneficial side effects.

Another of course being that he regenerates leg muscle extremely quickly, thus baring all chance of starvation.

And now you all know what it’s like inside my brain a little bit better than you EVER wanted to.  Someone give me a spaceship and a blaster… I’ll get my hands on my own kick-ass coat.






PS: The only other option is TIME COWBOY, but I’m afraid the 11th Doctor has already claimed that profession and there was only one position open. he’s already got his own time machine, too, so he was really the best choice there.

Published by M.A. Brotherton

M.A. Brotherton is a writer, blogger, artist, and fat-kid from the suburbs of Kansas City, Missouri. He’s tasted a little bit of everything the Midwest has to offer, ranging from meth-tweaking rednecks in massive underground cave complexes to those legendary amber waves of grain. When he’s not writing, he spends most of his time screwing around on the internet.

4 thoughts on “Re: My Chances of being a Cowboy”

  1. The RPG Guy says:

    Aw, man! Leg-muscle steaks AGAIN!? /sighs… Ok, fine. I’ll turn on the grill. 🙂

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      Well, the powerful hallucinogens in the blood mean that if you eat them slightly undercooked that you will never have the same meal twice. #YetiFacts

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      Yes. Which is why I will be one.. in my robot body… with a laser arm.

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