Last Drink(Teresa Carlson) “You’re a cowboy now, Carson.” His grandparent said as he bought Carson his first pair of cowboy boots. Carson grinned his toothless smile at his grandpa as he placed a cowboy hat on Carson’s head. “You want to get a beer?” His grandpa asked him. “Grandpa! I am only 6.” Carson said as he rolled his eyes. “Its good for you! Helps you become more of a man.” Grandpa said. “Oh alright, lets do it!” Carson eagerly said as they made their way down the paved path and into the old wooden saloon. “Howdy Sheriff!” Artie Ace, a notorious cowboy, said as him and my grandpa tipped their hats at each other. “Two beers?” Artie asked as he flashed his big, white smile at us. “The usual.” My grandpa said with a smile as we sat down at a sticky table, right next to a poker game. “I hope to be sheriff someday.” Carson said proudly to his grandpa. “You know Carson, being Ace-high is not always fun. I do a good job, but I always have to watch my back and protect our family’s name at all costs in case something happens to me. When it is your time to be sheriff, I want you to live by this quote from Ken Alstad. Some cowboys have to much tumbleweed in their blood to settle down. I never want you to jeopardize your life just to be Sheriff.” My grandpa said as he took a swig of his beer. “I have spent decades building our family name in this town, don’t mess it up.” He said as he took another sip of his beer. “Sheriff Boone?” A voice behind us said, but all Carson heard was the gunshot. Carson bravely turned around to see his grandpa hunched over and blood all over his shirt. He saw his grandpa’s half-spilled beer on the ground, and he cried. Carson was so parched from crying so much he went back to his beer, only to realize its iced tea and lemonade. Carson quickly woke up with a jolt as he came to realization that he just had the reoccurring nightmare again.

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