Golly. That was close wasn't it? There he was, Ranger Rick, stepping into the El Presidente Coral, all granite-jawed and Texas cool, one hand on the trigger of Buck, the name of his pearl-handled six-shooter, the other caressing a bible. And the bible was caressing him back! What was a Mittens to do? There he was, like a well-groomed deer frozen forever in the headlights, trying to decide which direction to leap towards salvation. Which policy should he abandon? Which Brand New Mittens suit should he wear? What to do? What to do? What chance did Bambi have against Ranger Rick? Mittens. Stranded at the Crossroads of Life. But then, just as the crowds were all prepared to cheer the blessed arrival of He Who Shall Deliver Us From the Interminable Boredom That Is Mittens, a problem arose. The first hint of this problem came when, just before he was about to deliver a major speech, Ranger Rick heard Buck frantically whispering to him. Can't this wait? asked Ranger Rick. Buck fired off a round in angry protest and Ranger Rick quickly excused himself from the podium to be counseled by his most trusted advisor. When Ranger Rick returned to the stage, crowds screaming and yelling in gleeful anticipation to receive their blessing from The One, his assistant noticed a slight green tinge around Ranger Rick's gills. "What's the problem, boss?" he asked. "Buck's empty," said Ranger Rick. "Huh?" "Dammit, I said BUCK'S EMPTY! THERE AIN'T NOTHIN' IN THE CHAMBER! WHAT KINDA ROOTIN' TOOTIN' TEXAS COWBOY SHOOTS BLANKS?" "Well maybe it's not as bad as..." "BOY DON'T YOU HEAR GOOD? MY HARD COLD STEEL DONE GONE LIMP. My cold hard stell done gone limp..." Well the crowd went so quiet you could have heard a cotton ball landing on a cotton floor. No, no, nooooooooooo! And Mittens? Well he just smiled and smiled...



