About a week ago, a guy from NYC stopped in at KFC, where I work during the evenings/weekends. I took his order, and, while we were waiting for it to be packed, he started small talk. This is how the conversation went.
HIM: Where are all the Indians at?
ME: Huh?
HIM: I thought there would be Indians here. This is the west, isn't it?
ME (spoken with a slight western accent): Just a couple days ago, I had to defend my family's homestead from an Apache war party. Musta been 30-40 of em, riding up, all yelling that war cry of theirs. They started shooting arrows at us, so we circled up the wagons around the farmhouse, and started to shoot 'em from the windows and the porch with our Winchesters. Musta killed 20 of em before they rode off. I tell ya, there ain't nothing scarier than an injun war party, screaming and hollering, shooting arrows at ya. Wanna see the Tomahawk that was stuck in our door?
I guess he sensed my sarcasm, because he shut up after that, got his food, and went on his way. :laugh: