Jitesh's Domain

Game Designer. Producer. Gamer.

Trust not a Bitch – RDR personal experience I.

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Posted the original one back – Facebook  on Thursday, June 17, 2010 at 11:26am

manual cover page on my game copy

manual cover page on my game copy

A fine looking innocent deserted lady calls for help. She begs for it. She asks for a lift. She says “help me out”. Me, Jose Panchal (courtesy Nic), strolling through Ridgewood farm notice her desperate call. I, being a gentle cowboy, proceed to help her.A bitch is what she is. Not a fine lady.

Bitch bucks me off me horse. Climbs on me horsie..tries running away. I whistle for my trusted horse. He gets back to me…bucks off the lady down to fucking muddy ground. I lasso the bitch. Then Hogtie her. Put her on me horsie. I start riding, carrying her through towns, while she keeps on screaming, hogtied, on me horsie. This is as satisfying as drinking hot chocolate in cold weather. I keep on riding. Bitch keeps on screaming. I keep on riding. Bitch keeps on screaming.

Off she goes…

A thought comes to my mind “Wouldn’t it be supremely satisfying to throw the bitch off a high cliff?”. I start climbing the nearest cliff. I reach desired height. I Stop. I carry the hogtied, beautiful looking, but not so beautiful minded bitch off me horsie. She keeps screaming in background. I am so high. I go near the edge of the cliff, throw the stupid bitch off. A deep, mesmerizing, intense satisfaction feels my veins as I observe the hogtied bitch fall to her bloody death.

And then I learned…

I was still high. Bitch dropped dead. Suddenly, while I am still in this feeling of “peace”, my trusted horsie approaches the edge of cliff, slips, follows the dropped bitch off the cliff…falls to his death on the same bloody ground. Me jumps off too, follows me horsie over the cliff. I dash and bang towards the cliff and fall down, not dead, but injured. My soul is torn apart looking at me dead trusted horsie…just beside that stupid dead hogtied bitch. I had to go on with my life. I had too (as Prad would say). I take out my knife. Skin my horsie. I now have horse meat. I can feed on it in my travels through Mexico.

Moral of my story…

Do not trust any lady. She might be a bitch. Your trusted horsie can be a bitch (or was God looking at me…and it was His intervention that slayed my horse!). No one will know. Life goes on.

Anyway, after 2 mins, you can always use D-PAD UP ARROW to whistle for a new horse 🙂
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