Things that Scared Me When I was Little: Train Robberies featuring Billy the Kid

Way back in the late 80s, my parents used to take me to this Wild West theme park in upstate New York called Frontier Town. I don’t recall too much about my experiences at this the place, either because I was too young, or because it’s become a repressed memory due to trauma. All I can really remember is that upon entering the park, there was a train ride that would take you into the town. On my first visit, I boarded the train with small bag of cheese cubes to eat. I sat down next to mom and the ride began. Everything was fine until about five minutes into the ride when I heard gun shots going off to the side of the train. All of the sudden, some douchebag with a bandana over his face, supposedly playing Billy the Kid, pulled up to the train on horseback.


The conductor conveniently stopped the train, and this pathetic college drop-out boarded. He started yelling at the passengers, but I couldn’t hear what he was yelling because I was screaming like a little bitch. Realizing that I was the weak, diseased wildebeest at the back of this herd, he came over to me and demanded that I give him everything in my pockets. I feebly told him I had nothing. Dad was snapping black mail photos, Mom was laughing her ass off, and then Billy noticed the cheese.
“HAND OVER THAT CHEESE BOOOYY!”
I was utterly petrified. My response sounded like Nancy Kerrigan after she got beat with a club.


Without hesitation, he took the bag of cheese.
The inbred, hick, fuck took…from a helpless 3 year old boy…a bag of cheese.

Despite my complaints to the incompetent Sheriff, the cheese was never returned to me, nor was my self-esteem or dignity. Because of my cowardly act, I was immediately stripped of my honorary sheriff badge by my father. In future visits to Frontier Town, I sheepishly hid under the seats of the train right before the inevitable robberies.

Fortunately for me, Frontier Town shut down in 2004. I’m guessing they closed because the new Billy upgraded his criminal activity from petty theft to child molestation. I would imagine the prick who stole my cheese is now a 40 year old alcoholic sitting in shack pleasuring himself to all of the treasures he’s taken and saved from innocent children over the years. If I ever see him again I’ll shove a block of Cabot Extra Sharp down his throat, jam 2 sticks of Polly-O string cheese up his nostrils, and leave him to slowly suffocate. Then I’d take back my bag of 20 year old rotted cheese, and finish eating what’s left.