On the midway with the constant sun beating down it’s been a long exhausting day. Regroup. Recharge. Plan the night’s adventures. Check the text. When does Sue get done? Where are we meeting? Who’s coming? What are we doing? I don’t know and I don’t care. Lord I’m bored. Can we go home yet? Ahhh…What a hoot. It’s cool…just gonna sit back and listen to the little boppers.
In the barn, it’s another world. The smells of animals, dried straw and wet timber assault the senses, creating the tantalizing aromas of rural America. Plaid shirts with flap pockets, western hats and cowboy boots are working tools not works of fashion. Generations intermingle amid the raucous calls of auctioneers selling prized bovines. Now, if I could just keep this dam pig going in circles…
Where are they? The text said nine. It’s Ten O’clock on Friday night. The smelly pudgy sunburned crowd has all shuffled by and I really need to blow this pop stand. No more, “You want fries with that” or “Refills are NOT free”. Can’t you read? What’s the last thing I need to do? And WHO is this loser hanging on my counter? There definitely is someplace I need to be.
Don Johnston shoots cows, pigs, and goats whether they have four legs or simply two. Hire Don. He’ll tell your next story like it’s never been told.
I hope you had the summer you expected and that you wanted. We're looking forward to a wonderful and fabulously memorable fall.
Cheers
Mike
Chief Instigation Officer
