There’s a town on Route 66 in Arizona were saloons abound. Formerly a mining town, the last mine was closed a generation or two ago. Horse thieving and gun fights in the streets were just a part of life when the mines were worked. Wild asses ran all over the place at times; a few were domesticated and some were used to breed mules.
Then there was Karot, a black hat and sideburns type of guy. Although that’s not what I mean when I say “wild asses”, some probably did refer to him as one. Karot was not above cheating at poker, knocking a few heads together, even overturning tables at the saloon if someone looked at him the wrong way. He never lost in a gunfight, whether a fair or unfair duel. So that’s not how he died.
Pam had just swept the cabin floor when Karot came in and didn’t remove his boots and spurs. She made him go back outside before she blew a hole in his torso with #4 shot from a 10 gauge goose gun.
Theres a town in Arizona, on Route 66, were saloons abound and there's mining and theirs horse thieving and gun fights in the streets and wild asses run the place.
If you don't give a wild ass a Karot, youll pay because, ...
Challenge: Take the beginning story shown above, fix my grammar (or change it altogether) and finish the gull durned story or poem.