The Hammer and I were out on the Prairie today. First wintry day of the year. You know what that means: women have started putting padding in their bras to keep their nipples from poking everybody in the fucking eye.
The ground was frozen. Ridges hard as granite had formed from what twenty-four hours ago was mud and horse shit. My dog sniffed and scratched at what when it was thawed may have been perfectly good food.
The wind was blowing so hard my dog's eyes were just about closed. My hands were deep in my pockets; my mind somewhere very far away, where the sun is hot and the pool girls have no padding their bras.
Once the two of us endured our healthful walk I went to my barber to get my hair cut. I had to wait as two farmers got their hair cut and bitched about how much money they lost due to the heavy rains of September. What they did not say is how much money they made from the grow-ops hidden beneath their fragrant barns.
"Well, how's the forest industry treating you these days Beer?" my barber asked as he laid the drape over my body.
"Like a two-bit whore in a city where no one has a dime in their pocket," I told him.
"Ah," he said, "things are on the upswing then."
Eventually our chat turned to women. Men talk about women a lot. "My wife and I were talking last night," my barber said. I cringed when he said it. Men and women talking! That Oprah really has fucked up everything. In the old days men and women farmed and fucked, in that order, now they spend more time sharing their feelings than their bodily fluids.
I really did not want to ask but I did, "What were you talking about?"
"'I hope you don't mind me wearing the pants in our relationship.' That's what she said. Like she just started wearing them yesterday or something. She has been wearing the pants in our relationship since the '70s when her and her Helen Reddy friends burnt their bras and took over the whole fucking world except for the armies and it's only a matter of time before they take over them too."
"So what did you say to her?"
"I said while I am thinking about it, get me a fucking beer!"
"Did she get you one?"
"She did. Just about right away."
"Sounds like you still have one leg in your trousers," I told him. "That is about all us men can hope for these days."
2 comments:
I know you were remembering your motorcycle youth out there on the Prairie with the wind ripping your eyes out, freezing cold with a girl rubbing your belly with both hands and cooing into your ear,"You're right about this new seat baby, go faster.".. We have plenty of fresh wet horseshit and mud available down here if you need some for the little dog.
John&June,how cute is that?Thanks for the picture Beer.S.
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