“If it’s trouble yuh want,” drawled the Sheriff, drawing his gun. “It’s trouble yuh found.”
“Heavens, no, my good man!” stammered the monocle-wearing fiddler crab in the top hat, his rostrum twitching nervously. “Trouble is the last thing I’m looking for!”
“So why you stealin’ mah horse?”
The monocle-wearing Fiddler Crab in the top hat sighed, and explained, for the fourth time today, that he was a traveler from the future; that he needed to borrow the horse to ride across the desert to a quantum singularity disguised as a lone cactus. Here he would stop a marauding band of one-dimensional beings from invading Earth and preventing the rise of American prominence in the early 20th Century.
“Huh,” said the sheriff, scratching his whiskers with his gun. “That there story sounds rehearsed.”
“Well,” said the Fiddler Crab, “Agreed. But I’ve repeated myself to three other townspeople today. Time’s wasting, Sheriff. Either let me go with this horse… or, I suppose you’ll just have to shoot me.”
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A long moment passed. The sheriff considered. “I ain’t never heard no story crazy as this… from a Fiddler Crab wearin’ a fruity hat to boot.”
“Top hat, thank you,” corrected the Fiddler Crab.
“But if what you say is true… how can I stop you? You take that horse and you SAVE AMERICA!”
And with that, the monocle-wearing Fiddler Crab in the top hat leapt upon the horse and rode out of town, carapace low to the saddle. And he felt just slightly guilty that – for the fourth time today – he’d fooled a townsperson from Gullible Gulch into thinking he was going to save future America.
For the truth was, all the monocle-wearing Fiddler Crab in the top hat was going to do – for the fourth time today – was ride a horse to the lone cactus and eat it.