After years of scribbling on yellow legal pads, years of typing on a Royal typewriter and the last few years writing on his cheap computer the old western story teller wrote his last words, “he reached for his tied down Colt,” but he died before he finished the sentence.
He had been a good person and a hard working, but seldom published writer, but when the archangel visited he was not sure if he would rather go to Heaven or Hell.
He asked to take a look at each place first. In Hell, he sees rows and rows of writers chained to their desks churning out manuscript after manuscript while being prodded by demonic agents with pitchforks.
"Wow, this is terrible," he says. "Let me see Heaven now."
In Heaven, he sees rows and rows of writers chained to their desks churning out manuscript after manuscript while being prodded by angel agents with pitchforks.
"Holy crap," says the writer. "Heaven is just as bad as Hell!"
"No way, cowboy," replies an unseen voice. "Here, your work gets published
Sorry for that astonishingly bad and very old joke, but is does beat the last one I shared – You know the one about the cowboy who walked into the bar dressed in paper sacks and was arrested for rustling.
1 comment:
HAHAHAHAHAAHA! Damn fine jokes!
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