“Well, I guess we done killed all them Mexicans,” you’ll
proudly announce to your mentally handicapped deputy.
He’ll spit on the ground and nod in response. Then the two of you will return to Crawford
Ranch, where you’ll play X-Box together and talk about girls you like that your
wife Laura won’t let you talk to. It’ll
be a simple, humble, satisfying life, far better than the one you left behind
in the cold, cold country up north.
Congratulations Halfwit Sheriff!
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