YOU might think life as a cowboy is all about the call of the wild, the cry of the coyote, the high lonesome existence, eating beans, drinking whiskey, playing bad harmonica, staring with a lifetime of regret into campfires, and hitting the trail each morning and riding into the sunset.

Yet, according to Abergavenny man Johnny Turnip, being a cowboy is nowhere near as exciting as it is in the movies.

“To be honest, life on the trail is not only lonesome, but it’s a bit boring!” Explained the semi-professional paranormal investigator. “I grew up watching Clint Eastwood films and always wanted to put on the hat, load the guns, saddle up the horse, chew the tobacco, and squint philosophically into the sun and talk about death. But the reality of riding a horse through hostile country in pursuit of a pot of gold isn’t as glamorous as you might think!”

Turnip added, “Clint never seems to get saddle sore in the movies, and he definitely didn’t have to put up with a moody centaur who kept reciting existential poetry!”

Turnip told the Chronicle that after they brought some horses from Captain KFC, Keith the centaur came along for a ride.

“We were looking at roughly a 1,194-mile trek to Deadwood from the Mojave Desert!’ Explained Turnip. “That’s a lot of hard country to cover. No country for middle-aged men when you think about it, but we were tasked with saving the world and didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter.

“Neither me, Puerto Rico Paul, nor Big Tony were strangers to the outlaw life. We’ve been on the outside looking in since day one. Tyke, on the other hand, for all his bluster, had been made soft by Hollywood and botox. I know he’d done this sort of thing in the movies, but I was unsure how he’d cope with the real deal. Time would tell.

“We had a vague idea that we had to head to Utah, then on to Wyoming, before heading to the black hills of South Dakota, but neither of us had much of a sense of direction, let alone knew how to use a compass.

“Fortunately, Keith had an animal’s innate ability to find the way. So he nominated himself pack leader. This didn’t go down well with the boys. Particularly Puerto Rico Paul, who started saying that humans were civilised creatures and didn’t form packs, they formed societies, and no half-horse hot-head was going to give him orders.

“As an alpha male obsessed kind of dude who was small of stature, Tyke naturally wanted to be the leader, but that wasn’t happening on my watch. This was the Turnip show, and I could see it was advantageous to our situation to let horse boy Keith think he was leading the charge while I exploited his navigational skills.

“So after giving him the nod and telling Paul and Tyke to behave we rode out. Big Tony wasn’t a problem because as a horse-obsessed half-gypsy he saw Keith as some sort of iconic figure, where I just saw him as someone who looked like Jason Statham and had horse legs and a fat ass.”

Turnip told the Chronicle that just as they were preparing to hit the trail, he realised that he and Puerto Rico Paul had no experience of riding horses, let alone Mustangs.

“When I told Keith, he just snorted and said, ‘Firstly. Kentucky horses are thoroughbreds, not Mustangs. However, the number of people who would know that outside of Kentucky is extremely low. Mustangs can’t run fast. Thoroughbreds are literally born to run. They race me all the time when I’m out galloping in the country. They remain undefeated.

“‘Secondly, you don’t ride a thoroughbred. If you’re lucky, they let you sit on them while they run.

“‘Guess what? Looks like you mugs got lucky. Because I’ve had a word, and the Blue Lady, Morning Star, Lucky Lightning, and Mercury Rev are happy to take you to Deadwood.’

“‘Cool names for four-legged beasts!’ Said Puerto Rico Paul. ‘How come you got lumbered with a lame name like Keith?’

“‘Said the man called Paul!’ Neighed the centaur. ‘You humans are so cliched. Just because I’m a creature of myth and magic you expect me to be called something Greek and boring like Chiron or Pholus. Well wise up, mugs! My dad’s name was Grayson and my mother was called Layla. There ain’t nothing Greek about me. I’m Kentucky born and bred.’

“‘Which parent was the stallion?’ Quipped Puerto Rico Paul, which earned him a slap around the head from Big Tony, who snarled, ‘Show some respect dickhead. You’re talking to a myth.’

“As Keith whinnied approvingly, he neighed, ‘Well said Little Anthony. Your respect is commendable. Now it’s time to get on the horses.’

“He added, ‘Remember, as long as you don’t do anything foolish like try and pretend you’re in charge, then you’ll be safe. The reins are for you to hold onto, not to control the horses. They’re wearing them and the saddles as a big favour. Say something stupid like ‘giddy-up’ or ‘easy boy,’ and they’ll throw you into the middle of next week. This lot are proud and noble beasts, and you should be humbled to be in their presence, let alone on their backs you bunch of unsightly chimps.’”

Turnip added, “As Big Tony fell to his knees and said, ‘We are my lord. Have no fear.’ I was a little sick in my mouth, but if the big oaf wanted to swear his allegiance to a mongrel creature that crapped while it cantered, he was welcome to it. As for me, I just needed to get my hands on Potato Creek Johnny’s pot of gold before the AI clown Peter Paleface caught up with us and destroyed the world with predictive reality.”

Turnip recalled, “As we mounted our steeds, we felt good; we felt like men of the wild frontier. The boredom and mundanity of the cowboy life, like crapping in bushes and being without regular showers, hadn’t sunk in yet.

“And as Keith shouted something incomprehensible, the horses all reared up and neighed frantically before they began a mad dash to the hills. Or at least they would have if we could see any hills. But it was all desert sands, and we needed to make our way to greener pastures somehow.”

Turnip added, “I’ve never been on a horse before, let alone a thoroughbred, but as those bad bastards galloped, I’ve never known a freedom like it. Those horses seemed to run ahead of reality itself until we were completely alive in the never-ending moment. And the moment was one of momentum.

“I never really understood what people like Julius Geezer back home used to mean when they said the trick in life was to keep moving, never look back, and don’t think about where you’re going - just keep moving! It somehow made perfect sense on the back of a Kentucky thoroughbred galloping with a sort of mad, unbounded joy across the desert.

“Man, could those boys run. In that moment, we had the whole universe at our feet We were men without a past or a future. In hindsight, we weren’t even men, and the thoroughbreds weren’t even horses. We were all just pure spirit, charging into the unknown.

“It was too good to last, though. Because it all came to an abrupt end when the kung-fu robots appeared!”

To be continued….