〉By Rusty Platts | CONTRIBUTOR AT-LARGE
Darn it! I ain’t no spring chicken, boys.
I’ve worn these fancy new cowboy boots for all of five minutes, and I’ve already kicked myself in the shin. Twice! Great job, Rusty. Bra-vo.
I really thought I could handle these fancy cowboy spurs. They make them look so cool in Western movies. I had an easy enough time getting them on my feet, but when I started walking, boy oh boy—that’s when the problems began. I guess that’s why those cowboys are always riding horses instead of walking.
What else am I gonna wear to the ball? I told everyone that I can’t wait to show off my cool cowboy boots, so now they’re expecting me to go with these tiny pizza cutters on my feet. They’re all gonna make fun of me now. “Hey Rusty, where’s the spurs?” “Rusty, you said you were gonna bust out the spurs for the ball. What gives?” At this rate, I might as well just skip the whole thing and tell everyone I had homework.
Wait. Is that blood? Shit shit shit. I didn’t think it was that bad but now it’s starting to really hurt a little. I should email Amazon and demand a refund for these defective, painful spurs. God, I can’t imagine the shame I’ll have when I return them to the postman. He’ll know I’m not a real cowboy.
Oh well, back to high heels. ♦
Ari Mostow, Nathan Mostow, and Nate Odenkirk have returned their cowboy boots as well.