A old cowboy died at the pearly gates

An old cowboy died and he’s at the pearly gates, Waiting to be admitted while St. Peter is leafing’ through this Big Book to see if the guy is worthy.

St. Peter goes through the Book several times and furrows his brow,

“You know, I can’t see that you ever did anything really bad in your life, but you never did anything really good either. If you can point to even one REALLY GOOD DEED — you’re in.”

The guy thinks for a moment.

“Yeah, there was this one time when I was driving down the highway and saw a giant group of Biker Gang Rapists assaulting this poor girl.

I slowed down my car to see what was going on and sure enough, there they were, about 50 of ’em ripping the clothes off this terrified young woman.

Infuriated, I got out of my car, grabbed a tire iron out of my trunk, and walked up to the leader of the gang, a huge guy with a studded leather jacket and a chain running from his nose to his ear.”

As I walked up to the leader, the Biker Gang Rapists formed a circle around me.

So, I ripped the leader’s chain off his face and smashed him over the head with the tire iron. Laid him out.

Then I turned and yelled at the rest of them,

“Leave this poor innocent girl alone! You’re all a bunch of sick, deranged animals! Go home before I teach you all a lesson in pain!”

St. Peter, impressed, says,

“Really? When did this happen?”

“Oh, about two minutes ago.”