“We’ve had enough of your cowboy attitude in the workplace,” the boss said. “You’re fired.”

I glanced at the clock. High noon.

“That’s mighty fine,” I drawled, spitting my tobacco onto the floor.

Holstering my six-shooter, I darn grabbed my Stetson and moseyed on out, heading for the nearest saloon.

Jon is from the Northwest of England and wastes most of his time working in local government, when he really wants to just read and write. He thinks his attitude to his hobby of rustling cattle back at the ranch is more lasso-faire than cowboy. He has recently been told one of his slightly longer worded shorts is to be included in an anthology. A doggone first.