There is a famous Man with No Name who actually has a name: Clint Eastwood. He also has a mule, and his mule don't like people laughing. Mr. Eastwood has prepared the following message for all of the people out there who, like his mule, just don't get it.
An Open Letter from Clint Eastwood to Everyone Who Refuses to Apologize to His MuleEdit
Bravo. I get it. I'm new in town and you don't like strangers. Worse yet, we're in the Wild West and I'm the Man with No Name. Nothing fazes me. I look tougher just squinting and smoking a cigarillo than a Comanche warrior on horseback looks when he's charging at you with a bloody tomahawk. I can shoot four armed men dead in less than two seconds. I can even aim my gun at a man lying 20 feet behind me and shoot him dead without turning to look first. So naturally, you see me as a "bad boy" who'll move in on your liquor and gun smuggling in this graveyard of a border town. You and the Baxter Boys probably think I'm planning to set fire to your house and shoot you as you stumble out, choking on smoke.
I didn't come here looking for trouble. I just came here to make a quick fistful of dollars. No tricks. But instead you had to go and upset my mule. You see, in this world there's two kinds of people, my friend. Those armed with loaded guns who ride skittish mules, and those who apologize. You apologize.
Come to think of it, you don't look any smarter than my mule. There even seems to be a family resemblance. So I'll keep things simple to make it easier for you.
My Mule Just Doesn't Get ItEdit
You still look confused. What's that you asked? Did I let my mule get away from me?? Well you see, that's what I wanna talk about. He's feeling real bad. Who's that, you wonder? Well, my mule. You see, he got all riled up when you fired those shots at his feet. I understand you were playing around. But the mule, he just doesn't get it.
True, there are a lot of things my mule doesn't get. Like why I make him wear horseshoes and a saddle. Or why it gets dark at night. Or why his mother never woke up that one morning years ago. Or the reason for his perverted, cross-species attraction to horses and donkeys. And the list doesn't stop there: advanced Algebra; the sands of time; the Underground Railroad; why men have nipples; puppets in disguise; the mystery of the Holy Trinity; midgets. My mule just doesn't get any of it. Not too bright, my mule.
My Mule, He Feels Real BadEdit
My mule's also the sensitive type. Like I said, he's feeling real bad right now. Not that it takes much. Raising my voice to him; digging my spurs into his sides with any force; setting fire to his barn and taunting him when he's too dumb to realize he should come out; whipping him when he fails Calculus tests; calling him a Republican - it all makes him feel real bad. And then there's painting his face up like a mime and making him speak in public. My mule hates that worst of all. And once he feels bad, he gets into one of his "moods." He won't eat. He bites me when I come near him. He sneaks into my room and shits on my bed. He forges my signature on letters threatening to kill the President and mails them to The White House. He cross-dresses. It goes without saying I've tried to cheer him up when he gets like that. Nothing works. You name it, I've tried it at some point - except maybe bringing him a bunch of roses. So now you and me are gonna make a bet, and I won't be taking "no" for an answer: I bet you can't figure out a way to make my mule feel better.
What's that about the stakes? Didn't hear what the bet was? Your life. That's right: alive or dead... it's your choice. Tell me how I can improve my mule's mood. If you want to live, that is. Because when a man with a .45 pistol and a sad mule meets someone who can't make the mule happy, that someone is a dead man. Don't believe me because you have a rifle? Let's see if what I said is true. Go ahead, load up and shoot.
My Mule Don't Like People LaughingEdit
Now you're laughing? I don't think it's nice, you laughing. You see, my mule don't like people laughing. He gets the crazy idea that you're laughing at him. Now if you apologize, like I know you're going to, I might convince him you really didn't mean it. I've done it before. Like the time I caught the Rojos boys shoving their peckers up my mule's ass. My mule don't like it when when his ass is being raped. He gets the crazy idea that people are raping him. The Rojos boys told my mule they were sorry, but my mule still didn't eat for a week. I won't stand to see his appetite ruined again all because of your laughing. Maybe if you say you're sorry like you really, really mean it, I might get my mule to accept your apology and even keep eating. But if he puts on a bra - I don't care if it's just for a minute - it's finito for you, my friend.
Last Chance to ApologizeEdit
No, I don't want to come inside for a warm cup of tea to talk this over. I'll admit that's very cozy, but I don't find you all that appealing. We aren't bargaining. You're not getting out of this for a few dollars more. You're going to have to apologize. Right here. Right now.
No Joke: You're Gonna Die Being Raped by a MuleEdit
You think this is some kind of joke? Who said I was joking? I already ordered a coffin for you. I even have a name for the special method of execution I save just for mule-haters like you: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Let me explain. You see that over there? It's no joke: it's my mule with a pecker the size of your forearm. I want you to stoop under him and put your bare ass up against that pecker. Then, my mule is going to sodomize you until your guts are mush. It's good for the mule, bad for you, and ugly for everyone.
What's that? You say you don't deserve this? Mighty careless of you, young man. Deserve's got nothing to do with it. You see, I understand that the punishment should fit the crime. But my mule, he just doesn't get it. Not only that, but you made him feel bad all over again: he failed the Bar Exam because he scored so low on criminal law. Now I can't convince my mule to accept an apology from you no matter how much you mean it. Bravo.
Well then, so long. And I don't just mean "goodbye": I'm also talking about the size of the mule phallus you're going to be impaled on.
It's been a nice chat. Too bad you have to die.
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