[ WP ] Write the most elaborate , over-dramatic , and exciting story you can think of that all just turns out to be a set-up for a pun so horrible I 'll want to punch you

`` Something is wrong with the water,'' Suzanna declared, sashaying into the saloon. She plopped the water bucket onto the bar without ceremony, startling several drunks nearby. 
 
 With a long-suffering sigh, Stu gave another cowboy a glass of whiskey. If this girl was n't Meg's cousin, he'd have fired her long ago. `` What exactly is wrong with it, Suzanna?'' he resigned himself to the inevitable question. 
 
 The girl huffed, wiping curls dark with sweat from her brow, as with the other hand she filled up a mug to take to a table. `` Well, for starters, it's yellow.'' 
 
 `` Yellow!'' Stu exclaimed. `` Ca n't be!'' 
 
 `` You sayin' I do n't use my eyes?'' Suzanna challenged him, black eyes sparking. 
 
 Flattening his hair nervously with one hand, the saloon owner muttered his answer. `` I'm saying you do n't use something.'' 
 
 The young spitfire either did n't hear him or let it slide, hoisting a tray onto her shoulder without comment. She turned to him before serving her table, one hand planted sassy-like on her hip, to say, `` Alls I'm sayin' is, I pulled the water up from the well, and it was yellow. You're welcome to use it for your cookin', if'n you want, but my money says if it looks like piss, and it smells like piss...'' 
 
 She left the sentence hanging and went to dump her load at the poker table in the corner, sending him one smarty-pants look on her way. 
 
 He frowned in his quiet way. `` Smells like piss?'' he repeated, more to himself than to anyone else. 
 
 He approached the bucket cautiously. 
 
 `` I would n't get close enough ter smell it,'f I were you, pardner,'' slurred a very, very drunk miner from his barstool. `` Man could knock'imself out thataway.'' He accentuated the warning with a couple of whiskey-flavored hiccoughs. 
 
 `` Thanks for the advice, Corner. I'll exercise due caution.'' 
 
 Suzanna dropped under the bar and popped up on the serving side again. `` Soup,'' she told him with the sort of sadistic, sickly sweet smile only she could dole out. `` Poker table's got a hankerin' for some of that vegetable brew you cook up now'n agin.'' 
 
 Stu stopped short of slapping a hand to his forehead. `` And they ordered that all on their own, did they?'' he growled. 
 
 Suzanna shrugged those pretty shoulders, her pink dress rustling with the movement. `` You brought me to this hellhole. No reason I should n't make you wallow in it.'' 
 
 `` Your kindness, as ever, simply overwhelms the soul.'' 
 
 His dry tone had several of the drunks within earshot tittering with laughter. Suzanna flounced away, and Stu winced. He'd pay for that one later. 
 
 But for now, he had a water problem. 
 
 Peering anxiously over the rim, Stu could see that Suzanna had been telling the truth -- the water was yellow. Crinkling his nose with dread, Stu inched his face closer to the liquid surface, and inhaled sharply. 
 
 With relief, he found Suzanna had exaggerated about the smell. As far as he could tell, it did n't smell like anything. 
 
 Stu cleared his throat, something he was unaccustomed to doing, and asked the saloon's patrons, `` Do n't suppose any of you fellas are brave enough to take the first taste of Suzanna's yellow water?!'' 
 
 The room fell silent. Stu tipped the bucket so the room's occupants could see inside. Nobody volunteered. 
 
 With a swallow, Stu sweetened the deal a little bit. `` The man who does will earn drinks on the house.'' 
 
 Still no takers. 
 
 `` Drinks on the house for the whole month,'' he offered, choking a little on the words as they escaped. `` Come on, boys. Just do n't let it touch your tongue, if'n you're scared.'' 
 
 Silence reigned still as every man shook his head. 
 
 Finally, from the back, an old man stood. He was the oldest man in town, had been here since before the mine, and could barely move. Now he wobbled his way to the front of the room, joints creaking and popping in the tense quiet. 
 
 `` Ai n't got nothing to lose,'' he rattled, and dipped his teacup into the yellow water. `` Happy trails to y'all,'' warbled the old-timer, and downed the cup in one swallow. 
 
 Setting the teacup down, he smacked his lips thoughtfully. 
 
 `` Tastes like... candy,'' he decided. 
 
 Then, suddenly, the old man sprouted wings. And with a gleeful whoop, he soared through the saloon doors and out of sight, singing, `` Red Bull gives you wiiiiiiiiings!'' 

