Jim-Bob-Billy-Bob-Jo-Bob strode into the saloon. His long booted legs seemed to move with purpose but his manner was overall, lugubrious even deliberate. Jim-Bob-Billy-Bob-Jo-Bob, or Bob as he was known, sidled up to the long bar and scanned it for the barman. Through the mists - it was a very long bar - he spied the bar tender at the far end. He tipped back his wide brimmed Stetson, rested his thumbs on his broad Texan rattler gun belt, which held two of the most beautiful pearl handled, nickel plated Colt .45s with fine tooling on the barrel and some very pretty studs on the handles... he inclined his head and bellowed in his deepest voice, "Coooee!". Being a light alto his call rent the foggy smoke filled air like a soprano caught in a revolving door. At the far end of the saloon, heads turned. The barman spat into the glass he was cleaning, adjusted his underpants and snorted back a big green one that had been impairing his breathing for some time. On the other side of the counter, a gruff, unshaven cattle herder shifted his weight from one foot to the other, straightened his girdle - which was killing him - adjusted his crotch, scratched his arm pit and made languid strides towards - Bob. Soon they came face to face. Tex, for that was his name, studied Bob.

Their eyes met. They said nothing to each other but their eyes spoke volumes... "Hello I'm Texs' eyes..." "Oh hi, I'm Bob's eyes..." "Pleased to meet you..." Bob took a deep breath and shifted. He raised one boot to the brass foot rail which made his leather leggings creak, kind of sexily and yet not too overtly but with just a hint of mystery. Tex narrowed his eyes as he studied Jim-Bob-Billy-Bob-Jo-Bob's rugged features. He looked him up and down, and down required quite a bit of study.
"Nice Chaps." said Jim-Bob-Billy-Bob-Jo-Bob.
"What that lot at the other end of the bar? They're alright." said Tex. He was chewing a toothpick, the cherry on which he'd consumed some time earlier when he'd downed his pale, dry, amontillado. "I've got something to say to you.... cowboy." said Tex, his breath heavy with sherry and just a hint of cerise. Jim-Bob-Billy-Bob-Jo-Bob did a sharp intake of breath. He could feel something coming. "Yes... I mean yep!" said Jim-Bob-Billy-Bob-Jo-Bob turning his head and clearing his throat. Tex drew a deep breath, "You know...." he began, "...that foundation is just not your colour. You want something with less peach and a bit more chocolate blush. I mean, it's okay but from a distance you lose definition, I could hardly make you out from down there," he said pointing to the far end of the bar where a bunch of the boys waved back. "D'you really think so?" said Jim-Bob-Billy-Bob-Jo-Bob or Bob, "I matches with my saddle bags, which are the beige suedete Calvin Klein with sequinned name emblazoned across the flap. I thought it made me look sheik yet at the same time, just a bit butch."
"Tex dropped his eyes, "Hell, I didn't realise." he intoned, "I'm such a fool." The tears streamed down his face leaving ribbons of mascara, "Can you ever forgive me?" "Well of course you silly goat. It's always good to have a second opinion..." said Jim-Bob-Billy-Bob-Jo-Bob giving his shoulder a little push then thrusting his thumbs into his belt, though they slipped and his gun went off narrowly missing his foot. "Ooops sorry, such a clumsy oaf. Let's have a drink." said, well yuh know Jim-Bob-....etc." The Barman arrived a while later.
"What'll it be pardners?"
"Well," said Jim-Bob-Billy-Bob-Jo-Bob, "I'll have a gin and tonic with a twist of lemon. And Tex here for that is his name I believe, unless my eyes deceive me...?"
"Give me a whisky...." From the other end of the bar there was a chorus of oooohs. "...but put it in a balloon glass like them fancy French drinkers use."
"Yippeekaiyay!" said Jim-Bob-Billy-Bob-Jo-Bob "You can round me up anytime." he said. It looked as though these two cowpokes would be getting on famous, poking cows... and other stuff for the foreseeable future.

This has been a politically incorrect fable... and we don't care!