“Sheriff Braxton, I just got word that rustlers have stolen over a hundred head of cattle out at the Dugan ranch!” cried Freddy Kruger. “Should we round up a posse?”
“No need, Deputy Kruger,” replied the Sheriff. “I’ll handle it myself.”
He strapped on his holster and checked the M-19 Plasma pistol that hung inside. Fully charged. With a tip of his hat he strode out of the dusty sheriff’s office.
Outside, his trusty dinosaur mount was tied to the hitching post.
“C’mon, Rex, time to ride,” he said, climbing into the saddle.
The dinosaur sprouted wings and flew off into the purple sky. The Sheriff slipped the One Ring onto his finger. Best to be invisible so the rustlers don’t see me comin‘, he thought.
Don Archer, assistant manager at the local burger joint stared at the scene in the dining area. Customers were prancing around, babbling about dinosaurs and unicorns and angels while climbing all over the chairs and tables.
“What the holy Hell?” he exclaimed.
Terrance, the fry cook came to the front. “Oh jeez,” he said.
“Oh jeez, what?” asked Don.
“Well, we ran out of mushrooms for our new burger so I used some I found in a plastic baggie in Paulie’s coat pocket.”
“Paulie the Pothead?” asked Don, wide-eyed.
Terrance never got that promotion he’d been hoping for.
[This is my entry into the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge, hosted by Alastair Forbes. Write a short story of 200 words or less from the photo prompt provided.
I dedicate this story to my nephew Braxton who loves to do Cowboy Stuff. And don’t do drugs. Drugs are bad, M’kay? 😉 ]
~V
The Well of Fiction 