Tracy and Lou turned Sally away from the crowd and faced her, still wearing the ‘rocketship’ and now holding a paintball rifle, towards the lines of moving UFO painted cardboard targets being waved back and forth above the heads of her rodeo-mates.
“Let’s see it, Sal!”
“Lou, they ain’t got no protection on!”
“They’ve got goggles!” Lou swatted Sally on the ass. “Don’t miss!”
She and Tracy stepped back while Sally fumbled with the rifle, trying to get the ‘rocketship’ off over her head. She ‘fumbled’ a little more on purpose, milking out the comedy, then casually fired off a round towards Chet.
He yelped as the pellet exploded in the dirt near his feet.
“Aww, COME ON, SAL, THESE ARE NEW BOOTS!” he hollered while the crowd laughed in appreciation.
Sally got the dildo off, looked at the crowd and shrugged with a comical, “OOPS!”.
And then she got serious.
The airsoft rifle came up to her shoulder as she sighted towards the bobbing, weaving, waving targets being held up for her. She aimed a shot at the biggest UFO in the back to sight the rifle, then proceeded to rattle off shot after shot with barely a pause in between, absolutely nailing every target in less than a minute.
She then flipped around, ducked between her legs and let off another three rounds that hit the UFO dead-center.
The crowd went beyond wild.
Sally stood up and waved and bowed several times until Curly Joe, the owner of the rodeo joined her. Lou, Tracy, and Chet were right behind him holding things. Curly Joe took the microphone from Lou and pulled Sally in for a tight hug.
“Sal, you know you’ve been a bright light for us these many years. Our own little Lone Star! We’re gonna miss thehelloutta you, ma girl!” Curly said in his thick West Texas drawl.
Sally wiped away a tear, leaning into the microphone. “Ain’t you supposed to do this at theendof the show, Curly?”
“Weeeellll, we ‘ent want you to be covered in dirt after yer last ride!”
Sally laughed, then sniffled a bit with a muttered, ‘Oh mah gahd’, as Tracy brought up a pair of boots that she’d painted. They were patterned in Sally’s staple turquoise and yellow, but with the Texas Lone Star prominent in the pattern.
Curly spoke for the crowd, “We ‘ent want you to ferget us neither, so we gotcha a little somethin’ t’take along. Don’t know the weather on that there planet, but a good pair’o’boots ain’t never a bad thang.”
Lou stepped up and handed Sally a matching hat as Curly continued.
“T’keep the rain and wind off yer shoulders, and the sun out yer eyes.”
Chet stepped up with a big rodeo cast photo, signed by everyone. Sally really did start crying then, sobbing as she took it.
“So y’cain’t ferget us none, no matter how many light years away you might be.”
Sally blubbered as they pulled her into a big group hug.
“Do us proud, Miz Rider,” Curly finished, then brought back a little lightness for the crowd (which was also blubbering), “And be sure to send us some pictures!”
???
Mr. Mephi-Stomp-On-These didn’t know what hit him. Sally rode him to a new personal record of 10.477 seconds. She scored a 93.
She was especially pleased to go out on such a high note considering the last time she’d ridden him, he’d tossed her off 5 seconds in. His buck was one of the most jarring she’d encountered over the course of her bronco riding career, but this time, something just seemed to click.
Chet was impressed and also had a twinkle in his eye as he complained about her winningyet again. His time on Tater Turd had been 9.332 seconds, with a score of 87.
“It’s cuz yer such a string bean!” Sally teased him. “You look like one of those inflatables at the car lots when you ride!”
“I DO NOT!”
