I always wanted to be a cowboy. In fact, my great grandfather, along with his sons, constructed a log cabin in the tall mountains of a town called Story, Wyoming. My family and I seem to make our way out there at least once every summer, and it's probalby the closest one can get to touching the outer layers of atmosphere.

Let me compose a classical Story setting. Down the street, there's a store named Waldorf A'Story where it smells like leather and the jingling of spurs accompanies the stomp of boots. A bison ranch is minutes away. The people all say "Howdy," "Youbetcha," and "Garsh." Horses run in a two hundred-acre green field across the street. My Nana still lives there.

So, there's no reason for me not to be a cowboy by now... well, besides the fact that I'm not...

Regardless, when our friend Josh showed up to Easter dinner, Wyoming came with. Donned with a wide brimmed black cowboy hat, a blue bell-bottomed suit, cream colored Gucci slippers, and a mustache that Errol Flynn would be jealous of, he was nothing short of the richest man in all of Story coming to have a meal with us.

To drink a Milwaukee's Best with such a decently clad cowboy, there's nothing of higher quality.

Actually, I think that's his great grandfather who lets Morgan Lane use the pistol... hmm...

Jack

Illustration by: Jack

Video: A scene from Ray Enrights 1950 western - Montana