Big Mike

Looking for a cool one after a long, dusty ride, the drifter strode into a saloon. He sidled up to the bar, ordered shot and a beer, and settled back to enjoy his refreshment. Suddenly, a man galloped into the bar, shouting, Run for your lives! Big Mikes comin! The drifter watched as most of the locals bolted for the door. Suddenly, the bar doors burst open. An enormous man, standing eight feet tall and weighing at least 400 pounds, rode in on a bull. Grabbing the drifter by the ankle, he tossed him over the bar and thundered, Gimme a drink! The terrified fellow handed over a bottle of whiskey, which the man guzzled in a single gulp and then shattered on the bar. The drifter stood aghast as the man stuffed the broken bottle in his mouth, munched the broken glass and smacked his lips with relish. Can I, ah, get you another, sir? the drifter stammered. Naw, I gotta git, the man grunted. Big Mikes comin.

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