Narrator: Some one-hundred-odd years ago, a motley collection of tough moustaches galloped across the West and left behind a raft of legends and legerdemains, and it seems a reasonable conjecture that if there are any television sets up in cowboy heaven, and anyone of these rough-and-wooly nail-eaters could see with what careless abandon their names and exploits are bandied about, they're very likely turning over in their graves - or worse, getting out of them. Which gives you a clue as to the proceedings that'll begin in just a moment, when one Mr. Rance McGrew, a three-thousand-buck-a-week phony-baloney discovers that this week's current edition of make-believe is being shot on location - and that location is The Twilight Zone.
Narrator: The evolution of the so-called 'adult' western, and the metamorphosis of one Randy McGrew, formerly phony-baloney, now upright citizen with a preoccupation with all things involving tradition, truth, and cowpoke predecessors. It's the way the cookie crumbles and the six-gun shoots - in The Twilight Zone.
Jesse James: [Mocking Rance McGrew] Just like I figured. This guy couldn't outdraw a crayon.
Jesse James: I've been looking over next week's script where you knock the gun out of Billy the Kid's hand from 4 stories up, half a block away, with a lamp.
Rance McGrew: No good, huh?