Year of The Cow
Picking rocks. Hardy's back screamed each time he tossed some millions-year old stone into the steel bucket of the front-end loader. His nose ran a little in the fresh, sharp winter air.
Climate change? Shit. Snow melted and Hardy was out in those fields, picking out the fresh crop of boulders the freezing earth pushed up into the topsoil. Every year. No wheat or corn got planted till the rocks were gone.
Most kids worked at the outlet mall for an hourly wage un-packing boxes from China. Most times Hardy had no regrets, but clearing rocks each spring always had him thinking about his decision to stick it out another season.
The big loader engine grumbled and stopped.
Mary's jeans tight on her rolling hips and her full, firm ass, glorious as a vision of Jesus, was the about the only thing keeping him going.
Time for breakfast. He straightened with a groan and turned for the house.
Climate change? Shit. Snow melted and Hardy was out in those fields, picking out the fresh crop of boulders the freezing earth pushed up into the topsoil. Every year. No wheat or corn got planted till the rocks were gone.
Most kids worked at the outlet mall for an hourly wage un-packing boxes from China. Most times Hardy had no regrets, but clearing rocks each spring always had him thinking about his decision to stick it out another season.
The big loader engine grumbled and stopped.
Mary's jeans tight on her rolling hips and her full, firm ass, glorious as a vision of Jesus, was the about the only thing keeping him going.
Time for breakfast. He straightened with a groan and turned for the house.
posted by kidneystones at
3:44 PM
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