Smoke in the Valley - Opening segment

     Having just been paroled from Helen Haller elementary for the summer, my cousin, Lester, and I were honing our skills as first class cowpokes at Gramps’ Ranch, a large ranch located in the hills, about three miles above the town in which we lived.    

     It was a warm summer afternoon, and we were out breaking in a couple of horses, which were actually broomsticks with a cloth horse head.  After a romp around the ranch, that included a dazzling display of horsemanship, lasting slightly less than a fleeting moment, our horses finally had us broken in; throwing us out of the saddle in front of a herd of cows, and completely destroying our credibility as first class cowpokes.       

     We decided to take a break in an old bull pen, near the barn, and nurse our bruises.  We were extremely grateful the bull pen was empty, since bulls are historically poor listeners, completely unwilling to listen to reason, and show no remorse for leaving imprints on various parts of your body.

     While several cows wandered over to offer their sympathies, I was telling Lester what my teacher, Miss Plumpinshort, had told our class recently…about a cow that set an entire city on fire.