Their mission was to find the notorious outlaw, Sad Ham the Butcher of Dagbad and destroy his stockpile of dangerous Wet Mule Dung (WMD), before it could be used against defenceless Oil Barons in the west.

George's father had been a Ranger, and in the early years had helped Sad Ham set up in the oil business. But Sad Ham had turned against his mentor and Ranger George had been sent out to make things right. George felt strong and invincible. He believed in his family's motto, "When in doubt, kill something!"

George tied his horse Tony to a hitching post and went into the No Chance Saloon, with his men. The bar was filled with dark swarthy men who wore beards and strange headgear. Ranger George knew they were bad men, just by the way they looked.

"I'm looking for Sad Ham the Butcher of Dagbad," George said to the comely wench named Frances, who was behind the bar opening a freshly chilled bottle of Bordeaux.

Frances had seen them come and go over the years and knew a cheap tinhorn when she saw one. "You've got no authority here," she said sternly to Ranger George. "This isn't Texas."

George had been expelled from some of the best schools in the country and had learned a few things about dealing with bar tenders. "Yah, well you look like some kind of French person," he said looking around at his pals to let them know they should laugh.

They ordered a round of lite beer and paid without tipping. The surly clientele were eyeing the Rangers, coveting their arsenal of automatic weapons and GI Joe uniforms.

"Hey boss." One of George's flunkies said. "Ain't that Sad Ham down there at the end of the bar?"

It certainly looked like Sad Ham, leaning against the bar, surrounded by a group of suspicious characters. George had seen pictures of the man firing his rifle in the air, his big bushy moustache twitching like walrus whiskers.

"Ok guys," George said. "Let's make this a fair fight." At which point his men unleashed a pre-emptive hail of lead that ripped through the far end of the room shattering furniture, and windows and pulverizing the proprietors collection of rare 18th century china dolls.

When the smoke cleared bodies lay everywhere. They'd killed a number of desperados, two cleaning ladies, a shoeshine boy and the saloon cat. Sad Ham, though, was not among the dead.

Out on the street all hell broke loose when word spread that Sad Ham had been deposed. There began a round of vicious retaliations against those who had supported him. This gave rise to payback from the other side, and the town was soon engulfed in a full-scale war. Bombs exploded, buildings burned and goats were stolen.

George and his men looked everywhere for Sad Ham's hideout. Any man caught wearing a moustache was scooped off the street and forced to watch Andy Warhol movies, until he confessed or broke down into hysterical tears.

They searched everywhere but failed to find the ex-tyrant or his alleged cache of WMD. A disgruntled civil servant finally accepted a generous offer of cash and a promise to relocate his family to the witness protection program in Toledo Ohio.

Sad Ham was captured early the next morning living in the out house of a family of circus performers who warned their children to stay away from the building fearing it had been taken over by a bearded Troll.

Some of the Rangers went looking for a hanging tree, while George organized some of Sad Ham's old enemies into a jury so he could have a fair trial.

With their mission accomplished, the Rangers rode out of town. A cloud of smoke hung over the smouldering town and terrified citizens could be seen fleeing to the hills. Sure there had been some collateral damage, thought George, but that's the risk you take in war.

The group stopped at the top of a hill looking down at the oil fields and their pumping derricks. George sniffed the air, turned to one of his lackeys and smiled. "Ah the smell of oil," he said breathing deeply. "It always makes me think of..money!"