If’n any of you sissies ain’t got the stones to complete this training, I’m warning you; ya’ll better up and skip town b’fore ol’ Rotten Rudy gets a hold of yer sorry keysters when he comes in directly. Anybody? Go on, git!
Now, I’m jus’ gonna get straight to it. You came here to learn to be a saloon bartender, and dag nab it, there’s just about one thing you need to know, and that’s how to sling a sarsaparilla! Right, first thing is to keep this here bar nice an’ oiled up, boys. And there’s one way to do that as far as ol’ Oklahoma here’s concerned. And that’s with Spotley’s Tung Oil. A coat ev’ry sunrise keeps this bar slick enough to sling a cactus down.
So here’s how it goes, boys: some horse-weary cowpoke’ll come up ‘n order hisself a sarsaparilla or a birch beer. Now—this is important—make sure you’re at the opposite end of the bar as yer customer. He’ll order the drink, and you yell, “that’ll be a nickel, partner,” and he’ll toss you the coin. Next, you fill one of these here tin mugs with the drink, and make sure it overflows a little, because that’ll lube up its trip down the bar.
The actual slingin’ is the tricky part. You’re liable to get yer ear shot off if you don’t sling it hard enough, but you don’t wanna know what’ll happen to ya if’n you sling it too hard. A wet cowpoke is an ornery cowpoke every time, boys. Remember that.
As far as the direction of the handle goes, you’re gonna want to start by just slingin’ with the handle toward the customer, so he can get roostered quicker. Now after a while, you’ll develop the spinnin’ technique patented by my predecessor, Curly Bill Stanton. That’s where you spin that mug three-hunnert’ an’ sixty degrees around before it hits the hand of your thirsty patron. But don’t try that too soon or you’re liable to get strung up by yer toes and left to cure. You see, we build to that.
One more thing I figure I oughta warn you about: watch out for Snake Montgomery. He’s got one brown eye and one blue eye, and boy howdy he will stare you down with both of ‘em like a hungry mountain lion at a one-man campsite. But you refuse him service no matter what. He’s the meanest sumbitch this side of Leadville, and Ol’ Oklahoma here and Snake Montgomery have unfinished business. If’n he comes in here and starts trouble, well, we got this here old muzzle-loader strapped under the bar.
So now you know the basics, and Oklahoma here’s got a hankerin’ for some tail. I’m headin’ upstairs, and just in time, too! Hooey, ya’ll better copper yer bets, because here comes ol’ Rotten Rudy, and it looks like he’s on the shoot tonight! Yeehaw!