Cowboys And Muslims

nunn

At a small terminal in the Texas Panhandle, three strangers are awaiting their shuttle flight. One is a Native American passing through from Oklahoma. Another, a local ranch hand on his way to Ft.
Worth for a stock show. The third passenger is an Arab student, newly arrived at the Texas oil patch from the Middle East. To pass the time they strike up a conversation on recent events, and the discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon the Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout Muslim. The conversation falls into an uneasy lull. The cowpoke leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine table, tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face. The wind outside blows tumbleweeds and the old windsock *, but no plane comes.

Finally, the Native American clears his throat and softly, he speaks: "Once my people were many, now we are few."

The Muslim raises an eyebrow and leans forward, "Once my people were few," he sneers, "and now we are many. Why do you suppose that is?"

The Texan shifts the toothpick to one side of his mouth and from the darkness beneath his Stetson says, "That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet."


SIG pistol armorer/FFL Dealer/Full time Peace Officer, Moderator of General Discussion Board on Gunbroker. Visit www.gunbroker.com, the best gun auction site on the Net! Email davidnunn@texoma.net

nunn

One is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer,
Another is a Cowboy on his way to Billings for a livestock show and the
Third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at
Montana State University from the Middle East
Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon, the
Two Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout, radical Muslim and the
Conversation falls into an uneasy lull.
The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a
Magazine table, tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face,
And lights a cigarette. The wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around,
And the old windsock is flapping; but still no plane comes.



Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks,
'At one time here... my people were many... but sadly, now we are few.'


The Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward,
Once my people were few,' he sneers, 'and now we are many.
Why do you suppose that is?'


The cowboy removes his cigarette from his mouth and from the
Darkness beneath his Stetson says in a smooth drawl . . .


reckon that's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet,
But I do believe it's a-comin'.' [}:)]

nunn

? ?




Three strangers strike up a conversation in the passenger lounge in the Bozeman , Montana airport, while waiting for their respective flights...



One is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer, another is a Cowboy on his way to Billings for a livestock show and the third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at Montana State University from the Middle East .



Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures.



Soon, the two Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout, radical Muslim and the conversation falls into an uneasy lull.

The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine table, tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face, and lights a cigarette. The wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around, and the old windsock is flapping; but still no plane comes.

Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks, 'At one time here... my people were many... but sadly, now we are few.'


The Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward,



'Once my people were few,' he sneers, 'and now we are many. Why do you suppose that is?'



The cowboy removes his cigarette from his mouth and from the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a smooth drawl . . ..


'I reckon that's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet,
But I do believe it's a-comin'.'








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WyomingSwede

Good post Nunn, however it plays better with a Wyoming Cowboy. At least thats the way I heard it. swede

WyomingSwede