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21 July 2003 - 18:07 Lynus = me Cletus = my dad Lynus: We gonna go get us some hay for them there cattle poppa? Cletus: Yessir but aaaaaah got me a bad feelin' in my bones. There thar clouds are rollin in too darnin fast, boy. Lynus: Well poppa, I amah gonna get down into them fields and feel out the wetness of the soil - I'm gonna get turning that hay to keep it nice dry. Cletus: That's good work there boy. There's nuttin' like a boy workin up a sweat in the sun.... Lynus: That's right poppa... And so I trotted down to the lower field to hook up the tractor and go turn that there hay... By Sunday evening me and poppa had cut, turned, baled and stacked 350 bales of the finest hay in the Cantons de L'Est. Not a snake to be seen. Not a drop of rain to be felt. Just two men working in the fields. Like the old days. And I still keep producing fucking hay dust from every single damn orifice.
   My life is rated NC-17. What is your life rated? |
