Sheriff walks into the local saloon. There’s your usual crowd of drunks, gamblers and travellers. He walks up to the bartender.
“I’m looking for the Brown paper Kid. Is there anybody by that name?”
The bartender points at a lanky young man slouched in the corner sitting at a table all by himself.
The sheriff, his Spurs spinning menacingly, struts over across to him real slow.
The man is dressed in brown paper trousers, brown paper shirt, brown paper kerchief and he’s even got a brown paper Stetson that he’s pulled down over his eyes.
“Are you the Brown paper Kid?” asks the Sheriff.
The man lifts his hat up with a finger, takes a good look at the Sheriff, his badge and his holster.
“Come on then, I’m taking you in,” says the Sheriff.
“Sure, but you gotta tell me what crime I committed.”