The Second Hand Bandit

You think you know about Boley Searls?
You think you know about The Second Hand Bandit?


Well, you better un-think ever’ thang you ever forgot to thought about, and start rethinkin’, or thinkin’ real hard about how high up into high noon you’re willing to go, cause Boley ain’t no school boy, nor skinny Sambo, nor mustang doppelganger.


People, he’s a jerrymand’rin’ jingo, and he don’t give a dead-blamed dollar whether you’re a darlin’ or a soiled dove, he’s gonna sport three spurs on his left boot, and you better just hope he don’t dance a whiskey whip and spitoon with it.


He’ll eat that Stetson for breakfast and before you send for your sidekick, you’ll be sewed up in a Comanche choke hold so tight, it’ll take right at seven grown men to untie you, and then they’ll have to un-mend the ground on boot hill and heave you in.


I’ve heard tell he’ll rob you, not just blind but Bible-blind — so blind it’ll take a bona fide wonder workin’ sign to fix. You won’t even have the clothes that ain’t on your back. You’ll have to borrow two pairs of britches just to not be butt naked.


And if you thought you were through with the trials and tribulations, Boley does a duster-double. He backs back into your bedroom and un-bandits ever’ thang right where it was before, so he can purloin all your play-perttys a second time.


But it’s best not to ask questions about Boley — the less you know the better. And if you’re thinkin’ to law-out that outlaw by callin’ the sheriff, better to cinch a saddle and ride on that hide until you get shed of that notion.



If you don’t you’ll be wishin’ you’da drowned that curiosity cat in fire water and Wednesday-night-wine, ’cause The Second Hand Bandit’s liable to beat you into a No-vember bunkhouse so fast, you’ll be plannin’ a Yes-vember break out before Billy Bankrole gets back with the bread.


And if that don’t make no sense — if you tried on this story and it don’t fit — it’s because Boley’s done snatched a lasso ’round all the sense, and run off with it.