Camping on a snowy mountain spur with only a small stack of burning brush for warmth, six cowboys took turns drinking a fifth of vodka.

Fat cowboy would talk of food.

Skinny cowboy would talk of warmth.

Angry cowboy would cuss and fight.

Sad cowboy would cry and complain.

Alcoholic cowboy drank too much vodka.

And Lazy cowboy would nod off constantly during his watch.

By dawn, no brush was burning and no vodka was around to drink.

All six cowboys lay with slit throats and missing scalps, victims of Lazy Cowboy’s napping ways.

Six cowboys, a tasty snack for a flock of buzzards, a hungry wolf and his pack, or a fat fly laying maggots.

By Spring, only a handful of ribs, four skulls, part of a fibula, and a trio of jaws would lay in blazing sunlight to mark a tomb for Six Cowboys on a snowy spur.