An old woman rode into town and tied her old mule to the hitching post. As she stood there brushing the dust from her face, a young gunslinger stepped out of the saloon. With a gun in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, the gunslinger looked at the old woman, laughed.

“Hey old woman, have you ever danced?”

The old woman peered up at the young gunslinger. “No, I never did much dancing. Never really wanted to.”

A couple of people standing near perked up, and moved closer, which emboldened the gunslinger.

“Well, you old bag of bones,” the gunslinger said as he pulled out his gun. “You’re going to dance for me now.”

Then he started shooting at the old woman’s feet.

Not wanting to get her feet blown off, the old woman started hopping around.

The crowd grew and, by the time he’d run out of bullets, everyone was laughing at the old woman.

“See there, old woman, you’re a fine dancer.” The gunslinger grinned, all cocky and smug, and shoved his gun into his holster. Then, he turned to go back into the saloon.

Thoroughly pissed, the old woman grabbed her mule, pulled a double-barrel shotgun out of her pack and leveled it at the back of the gunslinger’s head. Then, she cocked the gun.

At the sound of the loud clicks, the crowd stopped laughing.

The gunslinger heard the sounds too. He turned around slowly.

A silent stress filled the air.

The crowd watched as the gunslinger faced the old woman, and nervously stared down the holes of her double-barreled shotgun.

The old woman’s eyes narrowed. Her hands didn’t shake as she asked him in a voice as cold as steel, “Son, have you ever kissed a mules ass?”

The gunslinger swallowed hard, then smiled and said, “No ma’am, but you know… I’ve always wanted to.”