One word: poker.
We wanted the Walton Gang Outfit, and a scrap of the costume required us to force an entire table of poker players to leave penniless. We found a couple fellow playing in a saloon and decided to enact our devious plan. The first man didn't last long and soon gave up the game, but the other person-- Noah is his name-- was not so easily cowed.
In fact, he was secretly a poker genius.
Our goal was to get him to bust, but he was tricky, and we lost many a poker chip to his cruel tactics. But we perseviered, forcing ourselves to learn poker like the backs of our hands. We called, raised, and refused to display proper poker faces as he screamed and raved at Noah's cheating face. The sun lowered above the saloon and still we played on; we were losing, but we couldn't quit now. Morning dawned and high noon highed, but the stakes were still large; we were winning. Back and forth we went, neither us nor our opponent willing to leave broke. For an entire day we struggled wit against wit, card against card, and finally-- after brushing both vicory and defeat-- we won. The Grand Duel of Poker was over.
So that was fun. While I was typing this, Bryan followed a Mexican into the desert and harrassed him as a dog followed close behind and barked at him. By tugging the Mexican off his horse with a lasso, he apparently distracted the dog long enough to escape. Kind of petty, if you ask me.
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