Mongo, the guru, rode into the mud streets of the Old West town on a Mount Olympus-sized bovine named Pete. The townsfolk had sent their best rider to find Mongo and plead with him to come and help them save their town. Finding him in the next town over, Bonita explained that Colonel Branscomb, who had chronic shell-shock, had his men drag the division’s cannon to the bluff overlooking the town, then dismissed them all. Branscomb had started taking pot-shots at the village with the cannon for no apparent reason. Anyone who attempted to climb the bluff and see what the beef was risked winging or worse. The town wanted Mongo to work his magic and stop the barrage by any means necessary.
Mongo agreed to come with the young lass if she would bake him 3 dozen shortbread cookies with green sprinkles on them. Bonita, who was known not only as the best rider in the territory but also the best baker in her family, agreed to make Mongo a shortbread he would never forget. Bonita hopped on her steed and raced back to tell the town leaders Mongo was on his way.
As Mongo rode Pete into town, he noticed cannonholes in several buildings. Following the trajectory, he saw sunlight glinting off of a pair of binoculars just to the left of Big Bertha, the Cannon. The binoculars flashed for a moment and were gone. The Colonel was walking to the back of the cannon. Mongo didn’t have time to let this one percolate. He turned Pete towards the bluff.