Billy: "Tell me another story about when you wuz a kid in the wild west, grandpa!"
Grandpa: "Shore thang. How's about I tell y'all the sorry ass story of Juicy James."
Billy: "Yaaay! Juicy James! Juicy James!"
Grandpa: "Yep. Juicy James McDaid used to be a well-respected doctor in the lil' ole town of Little Kenny. Sang in the choir, helped lil' ole ladies cross the street, mayor-in-waitin', that kinda thang. But one day he decided to go to the Camptown races."
Billy: "Uh-oh!"
Grandpa: "Yep. Got hisself all liquored up on crazy juice and started to git all ornery with his fellow townsfolk. They done kicked his ass into the street."
Billy: "Horsey! Horsey!"
Grandpa: "Yep, then he done got up on his horse the wrong way round and galloped off. Some folk say he woulda made it home if he hadn't tried to give the horse some sugar on the way. By the time the sheriff caught up with him, they say Juicy James was talkin' to a cactus."
Billy: "Poor Juicy."
Grandpa: "Yep, he done abandoned his plans to be mayor, skulked off to his ranch and folk thought that was the end of him."
Billy: "Nuh-uh!"
Grandpa: "No sir. Only one year passed afore Juicy heard that Black Bart Blaney was gonna become the new mayor. So he done rode back into Little Kenny (the right way round this time) and started stickin' his posters up, bold as you like. Folk did double-takes. That was Juicy's style, right enough. Neck like a jockey's ass. But folk admired him for it. Claimed the Camptown races thing never happened. Folk in Little Kenny was strange."
Billy: "More!"
Grandpa: "Well, Juicy did get elected mayor but he was only in office six months afore he got hooched up agin and shot his own foot off. That really was the end of him then. Now. Night-night Billy."
Billy: "Night-night grandpa."