As with most things, I learned to adjust, mostly. The silly notions and fleeting romance of cowboy life, fell by the wayside, and you quickly learn that it's just another way to earn a living. Yah, it's a hell of a lot better than putting on a suit and neck collar, that's how I refer to a tie. The hours and long and hard, but what job doesn't have the same pit falls? You do have to love being outside, a lot. I guess the biggest difference is smell. Yup, a dude can get pretty ripe by the time the day ends, and you get dirty. If you don't walk away with mud on your face or a new hole in your jeans, you're doggin' it. You're also prone to injury if you don't pay attention to what you're doing. I fell into, well, actually, I backed into that category one time.
I really took a shine to this one horse, a paint. He and I just seem to fit personality wise. Once and a while, he'd show his stubborn streak or do what he wanted instead of what you wanted him to do, just like me. Around twi-light, I was brushing him down in his stall, when he had like a hissy fit for some damn reason and nudged me backward, hard. The next thing I knew, I felt this twinge of pain in my ass, and when I turned, it freakin' got worse. I'd caught myself on an errant nail, ripping a hole in my jeans and a nice three inch long gash that started bleeding like some oil gusher.
I remember feeling real light headed, and that's about it, until I woke up with three dudes looking over me, my jeans down around my ankles, the owners daughter staring at me, and his wife's hands on my ass. I could have like stopped traffic, my face was so red. She got the bleeding to stop, but told me that I was going to need stitches. My ears perked up when I heard that. I don't like needles of any kind, and yah, it's embarrasing to be a baby about it. I tried to get across to her that I'd be fine, but the look on her face, well, there was no room for argument. The next morning, there I was, stretched out on the doctors table. When I finally got back to the ranch, the first thing I did was head for the stall and pounded the crap out of that nail.
I guess you know that you've "fit" in when everyone starts in teasing you, and that's exactly what happened. Man, every time I turned around, there was (or so it seemed) some smart ass (pardon the pun) comment coming out of the guy's mouths.
Like the saying goes, all work and no play, well, it began to eat away at me for some reason. I mean playing cards night after night can only go so far. A couple times, one of the married dudes, Davey, invited me over to his place for dinner. He had a pool table, and whipped my ass up one side and down the other. Thank goodness we weren't playing for money. I asked him if there was anything to do in town, and he chuckled.
"Richie, we got a Exxon Station and a Subway, that, son, oughta answer your question". After that, he buried the eight ball and smiled. "What, you wanna get laid?" My mouth hit the floor.
"Um, yah, somethin like that," I replied shyly.
"Well, Sully gets the same itch, and it's been a while for him. Try talking to him about it," he said. And so I did.
No comments:
Post a Comment