The Message Board has been mis-named. It's not really just a message board; it's a Saloon. And all the dates are wrong; it's not 2002 but 1882. But the place is right--Texas.
This Saloon has all the usual patrons; there's the quiet guys who sit in the back and play cards, happy with each other's company. There's the Owners who make their occasional appearances. There's the guys who occasionally stop in for a drink and there's even a few souls who just have nowhere else to go. Heck, there's even a wimpy little guy in the back banging away on his tired old piano, buy nobody listens to him anymore.
But this is 1882 Texas, and you can't have a Saloon in 1882 without Cowboys, and there's planety of 'em here. You know 'em when they walk in, wary eyes scanning for someone looking at 'em the wrong way, one hand always near his holster, itchy trigger finger. Some Cowboys (the ones in the white hats) are decent fellows, who prefer to come in, get their drinks and play a few hands of cards and leave without trouble--although if trouble finds them they don't hesitate to stand their ground. But then there's the Desperados (the ones in black hats), the ones who barge in the door with a scowling face and guns drawn, just begging someone to take a shot at 'em. And if someone does, the smart guys duck under the table and wait it out, cuz these guys shoot first and never bother to ask questions later.
If this is indeed a Saloon, who are you?
J_A_B
