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Chet rode his motorcycle into a small town. He’d never been there before, so he couldn’t know that the locals had a habit of playing jokes on strangers. He had a beer and a burger and walked out the door.
His motorcycle was gone.
He strode back into the bar, pulled out his revolver, threw it into the air, caught it above his head, and fired into the ceiling.
“Which one of you sidewinders stole my bike? I’m gonna have me another beer and iff’n that bike ain’t where I put it when I finish my beer, I’m gonna do what I done in Texas.”
The gun and the threat were convincing enough. While Chet sipped his beer, a couple of the guys slipped out the back and returned his motorcycle.
Chet finished his beer and walked out the door. The bartender caught up to Chet just as he started his bike.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve just got to know. What did you do in Texas?”
“I walked home.”