Rick93coupe
08-09-2008, 01:25 AM
It's a-comin'
Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger
lounge in El Paso, Texas, while awaiting their respective flights.
One is an American Indian from Lame Deer, Montana; another is a Texas
cowboy on his way to Dallas for a livestock show; and the third
passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived in the U.S.
from the Middle East.
Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon, the two
Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout, radical Muslim
and the conversation falls into an uneasy lull.
The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine
table, and tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face.
The wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around, and the old windsock is
flapping; but still no plane comes.
Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks,
'At one time here, my people were many, but sadly, now we are few.'
The Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward.
'Once my people were few,' he sneers,'and now we are many.
Why do you suppose that is?'
The cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth, and from the
darkness beneath his Stetson says in a smooth drawl:
'That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet,
but I do believe it's a-comin'..."
Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger
lounge in El Paso, Texas, while awaiting their respective flights.
One is an American Indian from Lame Deer, Montana; another is a Texas
cowboy on his way to Dallas for a livestock show; and the third
passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived in the U.S.
from the Middle East.
Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon, the two
Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout, radical Muslim
and the conversation falls into an uneasy lull.
The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine
table, and tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face.
The wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around, and the old windsock is
flapping; but still no plane comes.
Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks,
'At one time here, my people were many, but sadly, now we are few.'
The Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward.
'Once my people were few,' he sneers,'and now we are many.
Why do you suppose that is?'
The cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth, and from the
darkness beneath his Stetson says in a smooth drawl:
'That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet,
but I do believe it's a-comin'..."