Saturday night and Rock Ridge Saloon was in full swing. The ladies from upstairs were plying their trade on the cowhands gambling and drinking away their wages. In the corner a honky-tonk player rattled the keys. The hubbub suggested a good night being had by all.
Then suddenly a cowboy burst through the swing doors shouting, "Big Mongo's a'comin'! Big Mongo's a'comin'!"
Silence hit the room like an express train.
"Big Mongo's headed this way, and he's mad as hell," panted the cowboy.
Everyone in the room drained their drinks and made for the exit.
A few minutes later as the saloon owner finished closing the shutters and made to bar the doors, a huge beast of a man, seven-foot-six at least, barged his way in.
"Whiskey and a small beer," barked the hulk.
"Mister, you can have a whole bottle of whiskey and as much beer as you want. Come to that, anything that takes your fancy!"
"No time," the big man said. "Big Mongo's comin'."