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Slim Randles
Slim Randles

“Boys,” said our tall cowboy, Steve, “I’ve got a real problem coming up and I’m not sure how to cope with it.”

The rest of us in the world dilemma think tank, meeting here each morning as long as the Farmers Brothers coffee doesn’t run out, turned toward our friend. We’re nothing if not a helpful bunch. We put our cups down … even Dud, who was still on his first cup.

Doc said, “Maybe we can help a bit, Steve. Tell us about it.”

“Well, Doc, it’s these dang New Year’s Resolutions. Time’s almost here, and I don’t even have one … not even one.”

“Why not?” asked Dud.

Steve grinned, picked up his coffee mug and raised it in a toast to others at the philosophy counter of the Mule Barn truck stop.

“Well,” he said, “since I’m dang near already perfect, it makes it kinda hard to find something that needs improvement.”

“We can see,” said Herb, “where that would weigh on a guy’s mind all right.”

“Now Steve, when you say ‘perfect’ you’re speaking hypothetically, right?”

Dud leaned over and whispered to Bert. “I thought a hypothetical was what Doc gives us shots with.”

“Hypothetically? Bull drool!” Steve said. “Check this out. Muscles. Brain. Ability to drive a pickup truck. Able to level a horse’s hoof with a rasp and a prayer. Hey, I stand before you a genuine American cowboy, the very pinnacle of human evolution. Thank you very much for the thunderous applause you were just now thinking of giving me. I’ll go to the head of the class.”

“I may have one solution to your dilemma, Steve.“

“What’s that, Doc?”

“Oh … just maybe you could work on that modesty just a bit next year.”

Brought to you by A Cowboy’s Guide to Growing Up Right. Look it over at Avuncular tips from a guy who made lots of mistakes.