Cowboys, Indians, etc.
Three strangers at a small terminal in the Texas Panhandle, are awaiting
their shuttle flight. One is a Native American passing through from
Oklahoma. Another, a local ranchhand on his way to Fort Worth for a stock
show. The third passenger is an fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived
at the Texas oil patch from the Middle East.
To pass the time they strike up a conversation on recent events, and the
discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon the Westerners learn that
the Arab is a devout radical Muslim. The conversation falls into an uneasy
lull.
The cowpoke leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine
table, tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face. The wind
outside blows tumbleweeds and the old windsock flaps, but no plane comes.
Finally, The Native American clears his throat and softly, he speaks:
"Once, my people were many, now we are few".
The radical Muslim 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 Texan shifts the toothpick to one side of his mouth and from the
darkness beneath his Stetson says in a drawl, "That's 'cause we ain't
played Cowboys and Muslims yet................."
Three strangers at a small terminal in the Texas Panhandle, are awaiting
their shuttle flight. One is a Native American passing through from
Oklahoma. Another, a local ranchhand on his way to Fort Worth for a stock
show. The third passenger is an fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived
at the Texas oil patch from the Middle East.
To pass the time they strike up a conversation on recent events, and the
discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon the Westerners learn that
the Arab is a devout radical Muslim. The conversation falls into an uneasy
lull.
The cowpoke leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine
table, tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face. The wind
outside blows tumbleweeds and the old windsock flaps, but no plane comes.
Finally, The Native American clears his throat and softly, he speaks:
"Once, my people were many, now we are few".
The radical Muslim 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 Texan shifts the toothpick to one side of his mouth and from the
darkness beneath his Stetson says in a drawl, "That's 'cause we ain't
played Cowboys and Muslims yet................."
