A Cowboy of Merit

A cowboy strolled up to the Pearly Gates where St. Peter stood, greeting arrivals with his usual question.

“Have you ever done anything of particular merit?” St. Peter inquired.

The cowboy tilted his hat back, considering.

“Well, I reckon there’s one thing,” he drawled.

He recounted a recent trip to the Black Hills in South Dakota. He had stumbled upon a gang of bikers who were menacing a young woman.

Despite their threats, he stepped forward and demanded they leave her alone. When they refused to heed his warning, he took matters into his own hands.

“I walked up to the biggest, meanest fella there, gave him a good smack to the side of his head, kicked over his bike, yanked out his nose ring, and tossed it on the ground,” the cowboy recounted proudly. “Then I warned them all to back off, or I’d give ’em a taste of cowboy justice.”

St. Peter raised an eyebrow, impressed by the cowboy’s bravado. “When did this happen?”

The cowboy grinned. “Oh, just a couple of minutes ago.”