Annie and the Long Gun

“Wilber, I done found the girl of my dream.”
“Archie, you find the girl of your dreams ‘bout every week. Who’s it this time?”
“You don’t know her Wilber. She moved into the old Parker place, down by the river.”
“You meet her at the Longhorn, like the last one?”
“I’ll bet it was at church,” Wilber said, grinning.
“Wilber, you know I don’t go to no church. She’s perfect Wilber. She’s got brown eyes, big tits, and can shoot the eye out of a crow at 50 yards.”
“What’s her name?”
“I ain’t really sure. I think her first name is Annie. Last name is a tree name.”
“Apple, prune, cherry?” Wilber offered.
“Ain’t a fruit tree.”
They both stopped talking while covering their nose and mouth from the dust the stagecoach kicked up. “Sure wish it would rain,” said Wilber.
“Oak,” said Archie, “her last name is Oak. She’s a big girl Wilber, near as big as me. I gotta go Wilber, she’s gonna teach me how to shoot a long gun.”

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