adBlockCheck

Local

34-Year-Old Asks For Big Piece

MADISON, WI—Directing the server to the large square in the corner, local 34-year-old Matthew Hinke asked for a big piece of cake during a workplace birthday party, sources confirmed Tuesday.

Mom Produces Decorative Gift Bag Out Of Thin Air

LEXINGTON, MA—Conjuring the item into existence along with several sheets of perfectly coordinated tissue paper, local mother Caroline Wolfson, 49, reportedly produced a decorative gift bag out of thin air Tuesday within a mere fraction of a second of her daughter mentioning she needed to wrap a present.

Cake Just Sitting There

Take It

CHICAGO—Assuring you that there was nothing to worry about and not a soul around who would see you, sources confirmed Tuesday that a large piece of chocolate cake was just sitting there and that you should go ahead and take it.
End Of Section
  • More News

This Town Ain't Big Enough For The Both Of Us, Unless We Can Reach Some Sort Of Mutually Acceptable Compromise

I reckon everyone from Silver City to Carson's Gulch knows that you're here in my town, you sour-bellied varmint. And everyone knows that having two gunslingers like us in a town like this is like putting two ruttin' bobcats in a burlap sack. You see, this town, pardner, just ain't big enough for the both of us.

Unless, of course, we can work out some sort of equitable, mutually agreeable compromise. Then maybe we could both stay.

There's gonna be blood between us, hombre, because I'd just as soon spit in your eye as look at you. I got me an itchy trigger finger, and there's only one thing that can scratch it—and that's filling your flea-bitten hide full of lead at high noon tomorrow.

Exceptin', that is, unless you wanna have some sort of mediated discussion, during which we could each air our respective dissatisfactions and maybe find a way to avoid bloodshed. You know, talk things out in a civilized manner and try to find some middle ground we can both agree to. That might be better'n fightin'.

I heard what you said about me bein' yellow-bellied, an' you're lower'n a bloodsuckin' tick's belly if you think I'm gonna stand for it, you bowlegged half-breed. Though, in all fairness, you mighta just been callin' me yella in the heat of the moment and didn't really mean it. But I don't cotton to bein' called a welsher by no man, if that's what you meant to imply.

So I dare you to step across this here line I drew in the street, you mangy owlhoot. You done said some low-down things about Nacogdoches Slim, and I'm gonna make you slap leather. You're gonna be coffin stuffin's before the sun sets tomorrow, pard, unless you can come up with some other way of settling our differences. Like maybe we could sit down and talk about how we feel, and through open and honest communication, each try to get a better sense of the other's perspective. Or maybe we could exchange gifts as a way of saying sorry for the hurt we've caused.

Oh, if you do agree to have a gunfight and don't like where I done drew the line, I could draw it in another street. Or even in a different location on this street, you back-bitin' peckerwood.

And don't go lookin' for no help from that weak-kneed sheriff, neither. He's been scared to death of Nacogdoches Slim ever since I showed him I could plea-bargain a manslaughter charge better'n any man since Sam Houston hisself. And, besides, it was self-defense. So it's up to you an' me to settle this, mano a mano, until one of us lies dead. But hopefully, it doesn't have to come to that.

WATCH VIDEO FROM THE ONION

Sign up For The Onion's Newsletter

Give your spam filter something to do.

X Close