Dispatch from Marshal Moose

This can’t be Texas. We got here - according to the Driver and we know how reliable he is, but this is not Texas. There are CARS, and I saw a Starbucks. Good grief, no, please not in Texas. There are supposed to be mesas, and cottonwood trees, campfires and horses, saloons with swinging doors. I want to walk through a door that swings! I have not seen a horse. I have not seen a fort or a stage coach or an old guy named Cookie. The guy at the fake Texas visitor center told us there was an alligator along the board walk. That is Florida. The scenery is not like Texas, it looked like the area north of Raleigh. I think I have been tricked and I am not happy. We are in a place called The Big Thicket. Never one time did I hear a cowboy say “Let’s put our bed rolls over there on The Big Thicket.“

I did hear someone say that this is East Texas so maybe we are close to Actual Texas but I doubt the Driver will ever find it if he thinks we are already here. Gloom and despair fill the air and my hat is fading away.