The cowhand got paid on Friday and immediately rode into town and proceeded to get thoroughly shit faced. A couple of pals decided to play a trick on him. They snuck out, turned his horse around, and went back to join the hapless for a few more rounds.
The next morning, when the alarm clock and a glass of cold water in the face failed to have the slightest effect, the cowhand’s wife started shaking him by the shoulders and screaming, “Tex, get up! You have to hit the goddamn trail, you’ve got work to do.”
“Can’t,” mumbled Tex. “Too beat. Too tired. Can’t even lift my head.”
“Get the hell up!” she screamed in his ear. “I’ve seen you this hungover a thousand times.”
“Last night was different,” said the wretched fellow. “Some son of a bitch cut my horse’s head off, and I had to pull him all the way home with my finger in his windpipe!”