The black shapes on the ground started to pool into night as I headed west in my work truck, chasing the last hour of sun. The farm had a RD number and a milk jug for a mailbox. There was a good half a kay of gravel before a farmhouse popped out atcha. I bounced up and down.
My windscreen turned brown. I could taste the dust. I stopped on some clean concrete on the edge of the forecourt, where someone was obviously pouring a bit of new driveway. He started doing somethin to the gate as I idled, there was a combination lock and a chain and he was chipping stray flecks of concrete off it. His hand clenched a spade.
He stared at my vehicle. Their view was pretty choice, down the bottom of the hill was a sandy beach where the river went deep and green as it slowed to turn a corner. Take my Princess back, put some babies up her, explain it to my wife and kids somehow.
The farm was like if you took an ocean, froze it, and painted all the waves the colour of mud. Dark brown, almost black, and pitted and pocked from trampling hoofs. Stressful shit. Blake-arms Snake-arms would probly be in a dark mood. Punching bag in the background: noted. I got outta my truck and Pristina came to the door. She eyed me up, which was fair enough since I was eyeing the shit up out of her. It made her blue eyes bulge and forced her face right out towards me, hard, fierce, confrontationalโand fucking hot.
Wood-coloured skin and blue eyes, my friend: a special breed. She had painted her thick, sausagey lips this bubblegum pink. She was always five years younger, or I was five years older. She was in the back of this Hilux I wrote off, one time, trying to do a diagonal across a river. I chuckled and spat, then stepped on my spit and mashed it into the forecourt. Bit rude, doin that, I spose. Good to meetcha.
