I lost my meat today. It’s gone. Don’t mourn its loss. No, this is no time for sorrow. When a man’s meat is pilfered by a no-good poacher, well, that there’s a time for revenge. Time spent cryin’ is time spent dyin’. That’s what my grandpappy used to say. He was shot in the head while cryin’. Damn shame. But back to my meat. I reckon my neighbor done gone and pilfered it. I can’t be having meat just up and disappearin’ from the SkyMall Monday
headquarters ranch. I’m gonna up and get me a posse and we’re gonna show that varmint a thing or two about manners. You can’t take a man’s meat and not expect consequences. He has my meat and that meat will be my meat again by sundown tomorrow. He’ll see that when you mess with a man’s meat, you mess with his biggest organ. I’m talking, of course, about his soul. That’s the heart of a man’s meat. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh, right, my missing meat. Yeah, I can’t have my neighbor thinking he can just take my meat and claim it as his meat. So, from now on, I’m going to make sure that every man, woman and child knows that my meat belongs to me and me alone. How am I gonna do that? Ha, I’m a rascally cowpoke. I went down to the general store SkyMall catalog and purchased me one of them there customized Branding Irons.You see, if you don’t put your name on your meat, then any man can go ahead and call it his meat. That’s meat anarchy. My pa moved the family out here when I was just a wee one so that we could have a better life. If he knew that people were just snatchin’ up meat like it was a whore at the saloon, well, he’d probably just up and get himself a whore at the saloon. And then he’d brand her with these branding irons. And then he’d eat a steak. I miss pappy.
And if you think that I’m just some crazy fella who’s ramblin’ on about meat and whores, well, then you have another thing comin’. You see, those rootin’ tootin’ snake oil salesmen over at that there SkyMall catalog have a thing or two to say about these branding irons. Go on and take a look-see:
Create a personalized iron to brand your steaks, chicken and burgers and show your guests the pride you take in being a great chef!
Pride. That’s a word my grandpappy’s pappy took seriously. He used to brand everything he owned. And he was damned proud of it. I know because my grandpappy had a brand on his backside that says, “My pappy’s proud of me.” And my pappy has a brand on his keister that reads, “Proud Parent of a Vanderbilt Elementary School Honor Student.” Yeah, I was real good at the book learnin’. I’m proud of that. That’s why I branded my Trapper Keeper.
Well, I reckon I best be moseying along now. I have some meat to brand and some
whores errands to do. But you remember what I said today, partner: Keep your damn hands off my meat!
Check out all of the previous SkyMall Monday posts HERE.