Srvy
Well-Known Member
Braden: Hey, what's going on?
Jessie: I'm moving you out. I want you to take your socks, your cigar stubs, your long johns, and your nickel-plated sheriff's badge, and amble back down the hall to your own room.
Braden: I like it here.
Jessie: Can't quite remember how you got squatter's rights in here, anyhow. Seems to me you came by one night to ask for an extra blanket and stayed a year.
Braden: " I been working since I was ten years old, Jessie, cleaning spittoons at a dime a day. It's now thirty years later, and all I can see out the window here is a dirt road going nowhere. The only thing that changes the view is the spotted dog lifting his leg against the wall over there. Saturday nights, I haul out the town drunks. I get their 25-cent dinners and their rotgut liquor heaved up over the front of my one good shirt. I wear three pounds of iron strapped to my leg. That makes me fair game for any punk cowboy who's had one too many. No, Jess, I don't need a wife. I need out."
Jessie: I'm moving you out. I want you to take your socks, your cigar stubs, your long johns, and your nickel-plated sheriff's badge, and amble back down the hall to your own room.
Braden: I like it here.
Jessie: Can't quite remember how you got squatter's rights in here, anyhow. Seems to me you came by one night to ask for an extra blanket and stayed a year.
Braden: " I been working since I was ten years old, Jessie, cleaning spittoons at a dime a day. It's now thirty years later, and all I can see out the window here is a dirt road going nowhere. The only thing that changes the view is the spotted dog lifting his leg against the wall over there. Saturday nights, I haul out the town drunks. I get their 25-cent dinners and their rotgut liquor heaved up over the front of my one good shirt. I wear three pounds of iron strapped to my leg. That makes me fair game for any punk cowboy who's had one too many. No, Jess, I don't need a wife. I need out."