Anyone wanna hear a good story, this is from my old rodeo days, what do you think?

Reed Woodall


Professor Amy Gardner


English 101 Section 33


October 25, 2005


Rodeo Clowns and Bull riders





Many moons ago when the west was still wild before concrete cities began to cover up the vast expanses of wild country, two cowboys sat on a corral fence staring at the crazy wild horses in the corral. Their names were Pete and Ree, better known around the ranch as the Repeat twins because their diet consisted mostly of beans. Anyway on that particular day they had imbibed a wee bit too much firewater which explains what happened next. Old Pete looked at Ree and said, “I’ll bet you I can ride any of them un-broke horses longer than you can.” Well Ree let out a big whiskey belch and not wanting to be out done replied “Hell you old fart! I can go you one better than that. I can ride one of them crazy Cayuses using just one hand.” Before Pete could reply Ree jumped off the fence, staggered towards the meanest looking horse of the bunch, and jumped on grabbing a handful of mane in his right hand. As soon as *** hit horse all hell broke loose.


That crazy old nag commenced to jump and kick and sunfish around the corral. Ree felt as if his neck would snap each time it was jerked sharply back and his brain was sure to rattle around and come out of his ear. When all of a sudden that ton of dynamite between his legs seemed to go in three directions at once. While poor Ree went flying in the fourth direction, he hit the ground harder than he thought possible and through the swirling dust and commotion Ree hollered up at Pete and said “Hot Damn Son, That was more fun than going to the whorehouse on payday!” And from that day forward cowboy’s only rode horses with one hand and a new sport called “Rodeo” began, although the working gals in town were awfully sad because the boys had found a new kind of riding sport.


I can relate to these old cowboys, I always felt I was born a hundred years too late.


Growing up around horses, cattle, and all kinds of other critters, it was only natural for me to spend hours daydreaming of becoming the next “Larry Mahan: The greatest all-around cowboy in the world.” Around the age of twelve, I decided I was grown up enough to get on my first bull. Boy was that a bad plan! I don’t remember much after the gate opened, except how hard the ground was and how bad it hurt when the bull decided to do a little tap dance on my head. (That explains a lot doesn’t it?) But, hey I was now officially a bull rider!


So I figured my next step was to try Copenhagen chewing tobacco. I don’t remember much after that only how hard the ground was when I got dizzy and fell off the fence on my head, See a pattern here? Over the years I spent a lot of time landing on my head as well as other parts. I’ve broken almost every bone in my body and traveled with broken bones to many Rodeos to compete. Then one day I had an epiphany. I got hung up on a bull that was approximately the size of the state of Nevada! By the time the dust settled, I lay there in the dirt spitting up blood and cussing at the world when I said to myself, self you’re not very good at this! So with the infinite wisdom I had shown so far in life, I decided to give up riding bulls and became a Rodeo Clown. I don’t remember much after that, except how hard the ground was………..!!!!


My old friend Pat Hunsaker, one of the many partners I’ve had the pleasure of fighting bulls with, were sitting around one day reminiscing about all the wonderful times we had shared together over the years. The following is an in-depth view of what Rodeo and the people that make it happen are all about.


I asked Pat to tell me about some of his fondest memories of those great days we spent together, which I knew immediately was a mistake because I saw that old devilish glow come into his eyes that I had come to know so well over the years, and knew I was in trouble. It doesn’t take a lot to amuse people like Pat and I, we have lived around danger for so long that we have come to appreciate every moment life has to offer. I believe that is why Rodeo people have such a great sense of humor. You just accept the fact that every time you enter the arena, it may be your last; it really makes you look at life differently. You appreciate things that most people take for granted and finding humor in even the smallest things helps deal with the stress this lifestyle brings.


Pat looked at me with that old toothless grin of his (a bull caught him square in the mouth years ago knocking out his two front teeth), settled back in his chair, took a sip of wine, and proceeded to take me back in time with the combined eloquence of Mark Twain and Will Rodgers that only can be accomplished by living the stories he was about to embark on. He took a dip of snuff and began.


“Do you remember that time in Tooele, Utah,” he asked. I did not need to reply so I just nodded my head as pains of that day shot through my body. “It started out like any other day,” Pat said, “but soon it turned into one of those unexplainable days where everything seemed to go wrong. The Rodeo started with the normal Grand Entry which went off without a hitch, then the bareback riding started, about midway through a young kid came out on a horse and instantly fell off the wrong side and got hung-up (like in bull-riding this happens when you get bucked off away from your hand and your hand will not come out of the rigging or bull rope). “From there on it just got worse. The pickup men came in to try and get the kid off when one of their horses legs got tangled up with the other horse and his horse did a flip and came down on top of him. With Pat and my help the other pickup man got the horse stopped and got the kid’s hand free. The kid turned out to be alright but the first pickup man still lay on the ground unmoving. The meat wagon came in and did their thing and hauled him away to the hospital.


Well, the Rodeo continued but like always after one of your own has been injured it seemed a little more somber. But rodeo people are “tuff” and we all soon returned to the business at hand. Pat and I continued our normal routine. We did one of our acts then went up into the stands to play to the crowd, which was on of the best parts because we both loved little kids.


All too soon it was time for the Bull Riding to start; we headed behind the bucking chutes to change into our fighting clothes. The big baggy pants we wore for show were too bulky and restrictive when it came to fighting bulls, so we changed into a shorter cut-off version.


At this point in the story, Pat gives me a strange look and I can see he is trying to say something but is having a hard time with the words, but after a moment, he said: “I never told you this but I had a bad feeling that day as we entered the arena, I wish I could of done something different.” I just grinned and said: “hey don’t sweat it, **** happens.” He just shrugged and continued on. About the fourth or fifth bull to come out was named Graveyard (yes he got his name because he could put people there) he was one of the quickest, biggest, meanest bulls I’d ever seen. He weighed over two-thousand pounds and had horns about three feet long on each side. This bull was so well known in this part of the country, that the crowd always got completely silent which made it even more ominous. We both stood outside the gate watching the bull rider take his wraps (The cowboy uses a rope with a handle braided into it, the rope is then pulled tight and he takes a “wrap” with the loose end around his hand). What kind of wrap he uses is important to the bullfighters, because if he get’s in trouble we have to go in and get his hand out of the rope. The only way to do this is to grab the loose end of the rope and try to get it undone. This is not as easy as it sounds when you have two-thousand pounds of pissed-off hamburger trying to kill you! The cowboy finished his wraps. We backed up into the arena. It was time.


The cowboy nodded. The gate opened. All hell broke loose. The cowboy only lasted a few jumps and sure enough he got bucked of into the well, away from his hand (the well is the inside of the spin when a bull spins) and sure enough, he got hung up. I was closest to the bull’s head so I went in to get the kid off but old Graveyard was too smart, he came back around with his horns and caught me in the ribcage throwing me in the air above his head. Trust me; this is not a good place to be. I came down again and this time his horn hit me in my big, beautiful “snozzola,” moving it an inch or so to the left. But luckily I caught the tail of the bull rope and jerked on it and the kid fell free. I knew I had some broken ribs and my nose was sure enough busted, but we had to finish the show. The rodeo ended with no further mishaps.


Pat looked at me and laughed and said: “Man I always thought you were crazy but you proved me right.” I just looked back at him and told him to “Kiss my ***.” He just blew me a kiss and continued on. “You were one stubborn SOB you know. It took me and your girlfriend to talk you into going to the hospital.” I just looked back at him and quacked (expressing my opinion of most Doctors.) We went to the hospital and as we walked in I noticed the pickup man who had been injured earlier was still lying on a gurney in the hallway. Well hell, this kind of scared me, so I snuck over to see if he was dead but as I bent over him he opened his eyes and looked up at me and said, “God damn! I sure as hell hope you’re not the Doctor.” I just grinned in relief and said, “What the hell you doing just hanging around in the hall?” He looked at me and said, “Aw hell they can’t find the dumbass doctor who’s supposed to be on call.” I asked if he was going to be alright and he said “Hell yeah,” I said: “that’s good” and walked back over to the nurse’s station handing her back my unfinished paperwork and said; “I’m out of here I’m hungry and ain”t gonna wait for the Doc.” She said; “but what about you’re broken ribs and nose?” I just looked at her, reached up and grabbed my nose and snapped it back as close to center as I could and said “I’ll worry about the ribs later” Turning to Pat and my girlfriend I said: “Anyone hungry?”

Anyone wanna hear a good story, this is from my old rodeo days, what do you think?
Tough sons-a-bitches you rodeo clowns are. Great story, but how far off center in the "snozoola"?
Reply:I think your story was so long that i didn't read it.
Reply:Your poem sucks.





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Reply:I didnt have the time to read the whole thing im sorry!


What I did read was really funny, whoever wrote it has a really great sense of humor, although i feel its terrible to scare unbroken horses by just jumping on one they need gentle encouragement not some drunkard jumping on its back!



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