*tap, tap, turn, spit*
We're tryin' to get her back on the meds.
Suck up.*grabs a good old Navy mop and starts swabbing the floor while the place is quiet*
Freakin' swabbie. You some kind of clean freak?Beer will be fine, Reg. Thanks.
*glares at the doggie*
No, just complaining about your aim. We pay this guy *points to an hombre in a round brimmed hat that has little dingleberries hanging from it, two six guns and two bandoleros filled with bullets crossing his chest who is picking his teeth with a Bowie knife* to clean the spittoons. No spit in the spittoons, nothing to clean. No clean, he no get paid. And that makes him very angry.
We can agree on that.Yay to beer!
I thought we were late 1800s, and somewhere near Doge City, but you're the one who noticed the Hispanic spittoon cleaner. Maybe you should ask him.Um. When was the Mexican War? For some reason I've been thinking our time period was post-Civil War, like 1870 to 1890 or so.
And where are we? Somewhere along the Rio Grande? Nevada? New Mexico?
Yanno, there's a weasel running around here somewhere. Makes a great target.i said, i ain't spit in weeks!