Paybacks Are Hell
   As both regular readers know, I used to ride bucking horses for a living and shoe horses only when I absolutely had to.  Back then, a certain rodeo producer from Louisiana had a particularly arrogant asshole of an arena director who also rode saddle broncs. He was a fair bronc rider and damned tough to beat in the draw. Anyway, one night he was being his usual, self-important, hurrying, self.  (Rushing contestants along in an attempt to get them lose their concentration was one of his favorite mind games.)  That performance, my horse was in the bucking chute next to the run-in alley and I was first to go.  He had me pulling my saddle as the last calf roper left the arena and nodding before they'd even called my name.

   No big deal, I was on to his games.

   I rode my horse, got off on the pickup man, and was walking back to the chutes when this fellow went to hollering at me to get the hell out of the arena.  I didn't really need hollering at because I was headed behind the chutes anyway, but that didn't stop this fellow from exercising his authority.

   I climbed up on the back of a chute to watch the rest of the bronc riding.  There was a horse in the chute with a saddle on him, but nobody was over the horse.   Shortly thereafter I found out who had the horse because the arena director/bronc rider was hollering at me again, saying, "Pull my goddam saddle and be quick about because I'm going next."

   I "forgot" to pull his back cinch.

   The first jump out of the chute, the cantle slapped him in his butt harder than King Kong can hit a golf ball with a baseball bat!  He must have set some kind of arena record for altitude, distance and hang time.

   He came back to the chutes madder'n a wet hen, and asked me at the top of his voice why'n hell I hadn't pulled his back girth.

   I said, "Well sir, with all your hollerin', I plumb forgot."=