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Discussion Starter · #2 ·
Yup, the day we were lost in the Chickahominy swamp, when it looked like that was gonna be it, that we would never find civilization again, things were said. So what if we both like men wearing make-up? That dont mean we aint great anglers, just means cuddling in the swamp wouldnt have been so hard for 2 like us. I remember well that look in his eyes. Yeah. That one. I remember when we shook hands and said well I guess this is it then, how he took his pinkie and tickled the palm of my hand. When we did our inventory as to what we did and didnt have in the way of survival gear, and Dayton said I have a condom in my wallet, the cries and shouts "HELP, HELP" came out a little louder from me. Talk about a fishin trip gone bad. Deliverance had nuthin on our day. We had more sick twisting chapters than I care to remember.
I thought it was outta line for him to ask me to strip down to my undies and squeal. He said "just a dry run", or sumthin to that effect. I dont mind tellin anyone I had a roll of duct tape in my dry box, and I taped, re-taped, and taped over my pooter some more. Dayton was humming the notes to the song Strangers in the Night, and yurs truly here was gittin skeert. That conversation about kissing a man still haunts me at night but its a relief from Hill 269 videos, what the hay I say. I still say I want mine all man, no lipstick smudges afterwards. Dayton said he reckons even Farmer would play along, so long as theres a mountain of rotting deer carcasses nearby. We called Choker and he said been there done that. Said his encounter was with some big hairy dude who he met at a bar that had a happy hour buffet laid out. Said after fishin around inside that guys mouth and cleaning the corn chip residue from tween the guys teeth he lost interest and went home alone and spent the remainder of the night lookin at himself in the mirror.
 

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Discussion Starter · #3 ·
Hey I am anticipating someone jumpin on me hard for reporting this. I cant help it, I dont create the news, I just give it to ya all in its truest form, unlike CNN. So what if Choker hooked up with a big cat named Larry one night? Am I sposed to care? Dayton shrugged it all off, sayin' It Aint Nuthin But A Thang. I dont know. I aint sure. I'd like to know just how long he stared at himself in the mirror, and did anything other than staring go on? Rex, I can only tell ya brother, if we invite either of these 2 over to visit us in the teepee we better keep the adult beverages locked up. Either one of these yahoos gets to feelin frisky and the outside inner floor perimeter of our teepee is gonna look like a banked NASCAR track. Good thing I will have my .40 cal pistol hangin in its scabbard bedside. Only pistol I have ever owned that has elevator sights and adjustment for windage. I know you dont mess around Rex and I think you know me well enuf to realize what my sentiments are. If we gotta have a nutsack or 2 hangin off our lodgepole, so be it.
 

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Discussion Starter · #4 ·
Todays 2:30 gig makes me practice self control. I am quite sure that the look in my eyes every 2 mos for 9 yrs now conveys my message all too clear to her. I have taken to shoeing her horses wearing a bib. I am sick of a wet chest from the drool. Dang dang dang. Her dagum boyfriend is a native American and a doctor to boot. Aaron. I like him, but not so much that I wouldnt put him in direct line of a kicking right rear leg if I thought the prize could be mine. If he EVER comes over whispering details to me I am gonna whip out my .40 cal., and punch a hole in him. Sumbeech has a nice Harley to boot. Greedy lil *****. Can I have the ol lady? No. Can I have the Harley? No.
What a hoarding, prize-grubbing wayward prick. He doesnt know about the teepee or how theres always room for 1 more scalp on the lodgepole. Me n Rex gonna really give him a thrill when he comes by on Peach Margarita Night and suddenly at a lapse in the blender, we come riding up on 2 white horses with machetes drawn. Trick or treat beyotch. Me n Rex gonna have a make-up crew come by to do our war paint. We both are sick of spitting on a finger then dragging it thru campfire ash to apply our Death Marks. Farmer will be there if I have my say about it. Hopefully we can muzzle him and all that Wanchese whoop, and pry him away from the blender long enuf to count coup.
Rex, not to change topics, but we better make dang sure our main lodge pole has strength & integrity. I dont want the damn teepee comin down every time an overexuberant dancer goes crazy on the pole. I hope yur sis and Greg will make up the sammiches and chips n dip spread for when we have Beavers Gone Wild night. The last time I hosted one of these I was living atop the pumphouse at the TU Ranch in Superior, AZ, and had I not caught the gal up as she teetered at the top of the steepest steps in the world, my beaver hunt woulda been over right there. I had a Spuds McKenzie cowdog livin up there with me named Dingo. He bit her in the ass for setting it on our bed without asking permission first. I was a mighty popular dude come 4 A.M. though. The main ranch house was where we all congregated each morning and fried eggs n bacon on the sweetest wood stove I have ever met. I hauled my new bride down to meet the boyz and pointed out where the eggz and bacon was kept. Poncho threw a few corn cobs in the firebox and stared at her. She got the hint, and sore koochie or not, she made us all breakfast before we left to go police up cows outta the brush of the Superstition Mts. Yessir. Allow me some memories fer crissake, its all I have left. Virgie was her name. Oh dark dark Messican girl, all hot Latino, mama mia. She became quite familiar with the steepest steps in the world during Apr & May during that years round up. Dingo got used to her and he just held his piece and cleaned up the wet spot like a good dog. Poncho once gave him the day off, which was unheard of for the cowdog crew at the TU Ranch. He said he figgered Dingo needed some time to get his head together after the previous nights screaming emitting from the pumphouse bunk. Hell next thing ya knew all the boys were gathered round the wood stove every morning at 4 A.M. wishing I would put a merciful end to it so Virgie could cook up our breakfast wearing only panties. And only is a true & accurate depiction. Yep I was quite the star that year at round up. No alarm clocks needed, the screaming at 0345 hrs woke everyone up, then I showed up first with one sock on and my chaps jammed up my azz. Then Virgie appeared, already dreading cooking for a crew of 5 who appreciated her cooking uniform each n every morning. I had to slap the **** outta Uncle Richey one morning, who thought he saw a hair growing out a nipple and was just trying to help he said after regaining consciousness. I have never seen a Messican cussin' put on an old ****** like that since. In Uncle Richeys defense, he had stayed at Los Hermanos till closing a few hrs earlier, and was still half in his cups.
Yup, think it was 1988. Cinco de Mayo, they roped off the streets of Superior, AZ, and you could carry yur drinks from saloon to saloon, and busta pinata along the way switching watering holes. Some of that good downhome Messican polka music blaring. We danced and hugged and kissed there in the middle of the street and life my friends, was at its best. We screamed and hollered. I was told I am an ok ****** over n over. I said listen you bean-breath lowriding lettuce pickers, I have been an ok ****** all along, yur just late on arrival knowing it. They pointed out that they had "given me" one of their own as a lover. I told em cut the ****, I took her right out from ya in broad daylight, now go home and tell yur mama Shoey wants a half doz good home made pork tamales. There was a cpl yrs there where I dint have any white friends at all. They nicknamed me Pelon. (Baldy) My checks were good at any bar in town even when there was no $ in the account. All the older ladies told me so long as they kept getting reports that Virgie screamed every morning at 0345, my ass was in like Flynn. They even put a sign on the door that led to the likker storage room at Los Hermanos. "Caberna el Chikki Nikki." No translation needed I hope but we displaced many a bottle of Dos Guzanos Tequila screaming it up back there as their jukebox played its only ****** song- Rod Stewarts Maggie May. Wake up Maggie I think I have sumthin to say to you......................
The barkeeps name was El Pedio, but I hung a good handle on that crusty frigger- Doomafloppy. I dont know. Dont ax. It just fit. Alcohol may have been involved. He would come lean across the bar at me at the most inconspicuous moment and say "So you like making cheese with our Messican wimmen, huh, ******?" I told him dam straight Flop, that girl has spirit and devotion, 2 things I somehow missed growing up Catholic. He would wink at me and touch my hand with his, and say "dont get too comfy or 1 or more of us will keel you." I told him point well taken but I got a hot date set up for later on tonight, please refrain from any killing until after 0400 hrs tomorrow morning, por fabor.
Yup, another life episode foiled badly by me. I shoulda allowed the girl to marry me. I could still be there in my 1 room shanty above the pumphouse at the TU Ranch punchin cows and listening to the ol lady scream every morning. She was a nurse to boot, no wonder she knew her way around a human organ the way she did. Not that I am an organist. Hell, I cant even play the piano. Imagine my happiness as I stood atop at the top step of the steepest steps in the world every morning and let her practice on the trumpet. She never did get the hang of frying an egg on a wood stove griddle, but hey, if yur outstanding in other fields, a little skin on my eggs aint no biggie. She used to comment each n every morning about the full-mount tom cougar mounted on the wall above the stove. 11 ft from nose to tail tip and that folks, is the honest truth. Dingos' mother lost her life treeing it, but happened a cpl yrs before me workin there. Part of rounding up the cattle was noting kills. Where and how recent by the looks of the remains. Scratch, and in particular, fresh scratch, could put round up on hold for a day and the dogs came with and plenty guns. They will pass up 1000 baby calves just cuz they prefer horses. It was an ongoing thing. Every year after the yearlings were shipped and round up was over you could stay on a few weeks more if you wanted. Fixin fence, packing salt blocks, killing lions. I usually had to scoot, as doing the mules at Fred Harveys barn at the Grand Canyon was part of my yearly gigs. But a cpl yrs I stuck around. I found out that my little puppy dog Dingo who had climbed the steepest set of steps on his own, and claimed me as his daddy and shared a bed with me, was a ferocious customer and fearless and reckless as hell when on a lion.
Did I mention that it was the Best of Times?
 

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Discussion Starter · #5 ·
I wanna go back, to a happier time in my life. I like to think I realized it was indeed the best of times and milked that cow until she was dry, but now here at 54 yrs old in another life, I think I may have missed a drop, and I wanna go back.
 

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Discussion Starter · #6 ·
Laid up in a line shack on the side of Picket Post Mt., with my good friend Miguel. O Dark Thirty. Suddenly the sound of dirt bikes and flares put out defining the "landing strip." BrrrrrrrrBuzzzzzzz the plane comes in sets down. Alotta shuffling and boot-scootin going on. Flares go out but new ones fired up and set out. Plane takes off and leaves. Me n Miguel mosey on down come sun-up, and help ourselves to just 1 brick. Yup, 2.2 lbs on the scales at the meat counter at Tienda Comida later that day. The whole dang town had a rolling paper shortage for a while, me n Miguel were Nat'l Heroes. We knew those dirt bikes had to be driven by locals, and kinda watched each others backs for a cpl days, but we put the word out that indeed we were there, and thought that 2.2 lbs was a fair deal considering we let the other 900 lbs go. Evidently the cartel agreed cuz obviously I am not dead.
 

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Discussion Starter · #7 ·
Dingo pizzed on a corner of it after first bringing it home. It was on my bed in the bunkhouse. We tore that corner off and gave it to El Pedio. He said hay meen, dat der is boutta the beest smoke I done eever had. Miguel and my eyes met, and we telepathicly said Mission Accomplished.
 

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Discussion Starter · #9 ·
I wont bore you with stories about Jasper the mule but here goes. Gray mule, gray being white in equine coloration. Long ears, brays occasionally, stereotype mule. Poncho (Frank Herron Jr) had exclusive rights to Jasper. Every morning after the screaming and breakfast, we'd take the 1 ton flatbed and stock trailer, flatbed piled high with saddles, chaps, spurs, folding brush saws, dogs. Drive out to whatever "pen" we had left the horses at after coming in the night before. Had feedbags fashioned outta gunny sacks, hung one with flaked corn on each critters muzzle. Then it was lottery time. We drew straws to see who got which horse for that day. I dont even have to think: Rat, Peanut, Buster, Racehorse, Danny, Sloop, Crawdad, Pisser. Peanut n Buster were top draws. Me n Miguel broke em both from ground up at age 2, and they were 4 or 5 at the time. Plenty stamina, you wasnt riding a plug 4 hrs into it. Gas pedal worked and you could pump a shot of nitro in either if open range roping came into play. Rat was the sorriest excuse for a horse you ever seen, and had mental health problems to boot. A small mare, gruella colored, if ya roped sumthin off her you better unass, cuz the dang cattle would drag yur mount out from under ya in a heartbeat. You n yur horse would wake up trying to shake off the cobwebs to the sound of nylon rope coming undone from yur saddle horn. Its a wonder after all the cussing and anger she caused we dint put her down and make horse jerky out her sorry azz. It was talked about and thats no bull. Racehorse had a great throttle but when it come time to put the brakes on there were none. Whatsoever. That horse would take you off the side of a mountain if you were fool enuf to let yur azzhole grow teeth and stay seated. You could rope off her just great, then she would fly by and bypass what you had roped, and whiplash the poor cow so fiercely it would make you pray to toilet paper later.
I met and worked with the folks at the TU Ranch simply cuz one day after trail riding in the Superstition Mts, I dropped down out em and sheer geographic chance had me ride up onto the TU as Mike (Miguel) was having a time of it breaking Buster & Peanut as 2 yr olds that had been open-range bred, and were feral by all true means of the definition. Heck I was a young blood, familiar with horses. Mike had a quick easy smile, we liked each other from Day 1. I said "having problems, burrito boy?" He said get yur ass off that sorry piece of crow bait yur riding and get me a band aid. He also said we only eat 1 meal around here and you missed it since it happens at 0400, but after you get me some band aids and finish (start) breaking this frikker, we can see about a bologna sammich fer yur horse. He said that set of steps that looks like the stairway to heaven above the pumphouse there is where you crash tonight unless you have other plans. Well, ok, I said, not wanting to seem unthankful. Then that sumbich sauntered into the ranch house, roused Poncho & Uncle Richey, and said we gots company.
Dangit, I was made to show my stuff right then n there, I mean on the spot. Can you rope? Well yes sir, actually thinkin of doing enuf ameteur events to get my pro card and give it a whirl. They werent impressed. Threw a rope at me and said bullchit walks away on this place. Not a problem bros, now you got my blood riling. What is it you want a roping demonstration put on? The rooster? How bout that gila monster? No just toss a loop over one of them cows in the pen if yur able to ride up and lay it over her horns. Thats right, I aint braggin but hell yes I am and rightfully so. I let myself into the pen and whooped like a crazed Comanche to make the cows run and tossed one from 20 ft and said now what punks? Poncho said can you shoe a horse? Can I shoe a horse? Well, last time I ckecked I could, and no you aint gettin no free shoeing in the way of proving anything. I am not liking you guys much and all this testing **** is makin me edgy. Well can you drink and work in the same day? Usually I told em, unless its a short day with only 5 hrs to it. Okay then, I was told, that set of steep steps leads to yur crash pad. Put yur mare up in the barn and the feeds in the feedroom you friggin idiot. You now work for the TU, its round up time, we is short-handed, you are fresh peckerwood on the block. You can finish breakig that sorry azz horse that sorry azz Miguel is getting the snot whipped out him by in the morning. Until then, get in the truck. We do this thing called Los Hermanos every night and we need to gauge yur alcohol tolerance. Okay, lemme put on some fresh undies out my saddle bag I said and will right with ya after I bathe in the horse trough. Good they said, yur home. Plenty of good dry feed sacks in the barn to dry yurself off with. Thank you I said. That was the first night and that dam Miguel took it upon hisself to try his best to show me who could drink the most whiskey out a bottle in one sitting. At about 11:30 I was holding his hair back as he puked up a terrible storm of beans n booze, and told him dont fork with me ******, I got pedigree. The next morning me, him, n Buster worked out any kinks any of us had and Poncho said well ya broke him sure nuff, now lets see you shoe him. Day 2 was getting pretty brutal at this point but cant be a baby on a cowboy ranch so I sucked it up, hangover and all, and a more violent shoeing has seldom if ever gone down. When the dust settled it was Mikes turn to run for bandaids, n Buster had a set of 4 on his hooves. It was at this point that I was offered to make a legal name change to Herron, and told I would meet my family soon. Of course, tattered as I was, the only recourse these fools had was to drag me back to Los Hermanos for "reconcilliation."
The next morning it was pointed out that the stove got hot from wood, and my hands looked like egg-crackers. I tried tell Poncho later that the only reason I missed that fork-horned bull calf was because I aint used to slingin a rope when my hands are coated in bacon grease.
Thank God Virgie picked me out in the crowd at Cinco de Mayo and after screaming all night long found herself topless cook of the TU Ranch. I could finally catch my wind and sit at the table proper with the rest of the boys. I will never fergit the toast. Black n I mean charred on one side, white n doughy on the other. We never once brought up the words flip it over. After Los Hermanos the night before we were just glad to be alive suckin air and eating.
Then I really got tested, those SOBs. Poncho said well you broke him and shod him, seems it would be unfair to let any other than you break him in until he has 1000 miles on his odometer. Oh happy day, nekked cook and hangover to the side. I spent 3 full days trying to keep myself attached to him as we bucked up n down every dam mountain in Gila Co., AZ. "Rope sumthin" the fan crowd chanted. Well, in my best bull-riding technique, I kept 1 hand free just to sport the middle finger as I bounced by on Buster. Miguel showed what a true friend he was by riding up as I was piled up in a cactus and said hey meen, I theenk yur horse gonna dance all over yur pretty ****** mug if you dont get some snap back to ya and roll away. The good news is that Buster finally figgered out he had been whispered to by a pro, and he and I carried on a special relationship beneficial to the ranch while all others gladly gave me his long straw at lottery pick time. Big flat-backed dun horse, that sucker once he got the hang was the envy of not only the TU guys but made a name for himself at neighboring ranches, and Good Horse talk is cheap now and was then. Yeah, I am braggin freely and man I like the feeling. I had sumthin to me even I dint know at the time. Neither did anyone else, and I think it was mulled over out of my presence more than once. They couldnt put a finger on it either, and these cats stunk of cattle n horses. That was my breakout year in my mind and well do I know it privately. Mike (Miguel) treated me with just a tad of respect after that day, and I knew without Poncho telling me that I could stay year-round if I wanted to, they would make an exception. This felt good as you can imagine, knowing this and coming to realization about something I have few others ever get close to. I broke Peanut that same time frame. Then the neighboring ranchers were approaching me wanting a piece of me in gentling some of their green horses. As rough n tumble as I was at the time I had the good sense to think I am a farrier, this is how I make a living. Dont think I am willing to jeopardize that by hospital trips which certainly woulda been part of the mix. I aaint that good of a whisperer, and some of these horses were documented hardcases. Better to know its in me, listen to Virgie scream every morning, and enjoy my bacon n eggz with a full set of chompers intact I said. I learned such a valuable lesson with Buster and had such an awakening I cant really tell anyone cuz they wont get it. When I had Buster snubbed down to the pole and forced a saddle on his feral azz, the onlookers were all up in arms, like a NASCAR race fixin to go down. As Buster flipped himself, hung from the O-ring of the pole, just threw a walleyed chit fit, the lookers on were chanting Kick is Azz, Show Him Who Is Boss, He kicked you, kick him back.
Not in me.
I get it.
The horse is skeert as hell, now what kind of calming effect will beating him have? Overcome yur initial response reflexes. He is scared. He dint wake up this morning hoping you would come into his world so he can dance on yur noggin. He is skeert. He needs a firm hand that has love and understanding. Poor brute is but a dumb animal, he aint got the power of rational thought. Time for a higher life form to be responsible and treat him accordingly. There is no pride in my world for being big enuf to kick a dog and truer words have seldom passed my lips. Hey guess what? After the normal amount of bandaids, if you keep a cool head and persevere, a horse you can put yur grandkids on and turn yur back evolves. I dont judge animals in my life or pets I have had by their distictive coloration or how much chrome they have. I like them for how they connect with me or me them, period. If I were more marketing and less country I have no doubt I could be the leading clinic dude travelling around getting fat on just what I know for a solid fact. What is a mystery to others makes complete sense to me. I was 8 yrs old and already knew that Dad n I had a thing around animals. Neighboring farmers had to coax, sucker, and cuss their cows to come into the barn for milking. Ours were beating down the door cuz they knew it was a time to be fed, have some fly spray put on em, relieve that aching dragging bulge that udders fulla milk make for. More than once we hobbled a first-time heifer and it was an ugly mess of beaten man, cowchit, mad cow. Nobody ever so much as thought for one second I will take my belt off and beat the **** outta this cow for how she has trashed me. We knew she was skeert and unfamiliar. Practical thinking. Man that is going out the doors today.
I find myself having less and less patience with ignorant clients. I am getting selective in my old age, and if you got that bull **** mentality that says I will MAKE this horse do anything, then take a walk Susie. And to be frank, some people should be keepers of animals,. others shouldnt, and you are in the Shouldnt part and now I despise you.
Let me impart a piece of my infinite wisdom on you: Look at how yur neighbor talks to or handles or deals with his dog, cat, or billy goat. Behind closed doors that is the same way he treats his wife, kids, family, associates. EVERY TIME, no omissions. It holds true 1090% of the time. I have identified more headstrong abusive people over the years like this, after I make their horse finally realize I am not like all the others, then the kids or wives come crying to me knowing I have sumthin to me that might help fix the hitler in their life. I dont know if I should be ashamed or proud, but I take in all that and am left hoping the horse not the people come away from my visit the better.
 

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Discussion Starter · #11 ·
I havent even started the opening paragraph Homefried. Take yur time and ignor this when you have the time broski. Should you get bored enuf to read this at some point it has lessons in family values, how to treat others, common sense type stuff that seems to be out the window nowdays. I wake up a mixed bag each n every day man. You may not think I am the type who swings his feet over the edge of the bed every morning and before worrying about pizzing or coffee, I pet my dog on his evil lil noggin, and take those fuzzy moments to self-access. Cuz I know I am surely human and therefore prone to wrongness, and just see it a simple break for mankind to try determine just how big an azzhole I am, and if I am willing to take that & run with it. I have never had a problem with humbling myself unto that which is right, probly the reason I post my life as an open book on here and to hell with what anyone thinks. Atleast yur getting the Real Version. Humble enuf that I can say hey my life is a far cry from the success and perfection it seems is in vogue in order to be a hip warrior nowdays. So I got a drinkin problem. So I hate my ol lady but love her all at the same time. So I got PTSD clinics that do nuthin whatsoever to make the videos go away. Hey we all got our problems. I aint under no delusion that mine are the most or worst. I aint askin for sympathy, understanding, or $. It is what it is man, but hope that IT IS part in itself qualifies me to rant about it no matter if a single reader tunes in or not.
You bet. Mid-life crissus. Aint trying to bring it back to score chicks or make money. No fame or glory in being a day late n dollar short. Seems actually if I cared about opinions most would say you done screwed up bad man. So what? Its 2011 and I got whats here today to deal with, but the fond memories dont need to be shelved or hidden because of it. Probly the same reason the very best the V.A. has to offer just shake their heads and say go home son, we aint good enuf for a special needs case like you. Most of em were soiling diapers as I scaled Hill 269 and their take on it means as much to me as a fart dissapating in a high wind. Sometimes I have to help them. The damn shrink himself is a crying bundle of misery, begging Grasshopper to help him or her thru all this. Fer Petes sake man, enuf is enuf. No wonder I look at yur goofy hair, mis-matched clothes, and eccentric ways, and wonder, well,.... WTF?
Now damn you for taking me away from my love, the TU Ranch, Superior, AZ. Uncle Richey couldnt find his own socks with a flashlight and magnifying glass, but that sucker could spot cattle comin off a ridge at 3 miles. I mean flat uncanny. It was like he could spot a flea on a dog at 300 yds. He had a knack for it. Poncho kept a pair of binoculars in his saddlebags (I AM NOT BSing ONE BIT) just to verify that indeed Deadeye Dick had called it right. Whoops, we missed some, boys. Better shuffle on over there and drive em down to a tank and come push em tomorrow. Uncle Richey was not blood relation to the Herrons. He had been around forever though, and I know its true that Frank n Phyllus kicked more wayward wimmen out his bunkhouse they coulda wrote a book bout it. Crusty. Dry sense if any humor. A no-BS guy. You gotta like that, you always knew wherte you stood in his world. A small guy, like you, frail, not much to him, but first to smack ya right in the nutsack if he felt the need and then froth at the mouth saying come on with it punk. Safe to say I will love the memories of that man until the 4 white horses come here for shoeings. Jesus H, he dint know when to quit. None of us ever once took up for him. We just loved him enuf to deliver bandaids after he'd bought his. That sucker could straddle a squeeze chute and seperating gate like no other. He could be directly on top of the yearlings that were piled up and frantic, and never having a chance to see balls or twat, swing that gate from one side to the other yelling out Bull or Heifer. That sucker could sex some calves now aint no 2 ways to dodge it. Frank was all crippled up in his hands and him nd Phyllis were in there late 60s at the time. Frank would sit there on lawn chair nxt to Phyllis, overlooking the day that everyting had been driven home. It was always a Sunday. Cattle semi rigs were parked all over waiting to load and take the yearlings to pastures in Wyoming, Montana, Colorado, for finishing. The Cutters n canners-old bulls, old cows, crips, had been culled. They were awaiting yur spot at Pops for a hot dawg in the future. Frank would sit there and I would be a cpl hunnert yds away and his angst at not being able to ride or rope anymore hurt me bad. He just sat there with Phyllis, and I wiish I coulda heard the words shared between em in reminiscing. Poncho (Franks son) had a sis named Jane, she was married to a redheaded woodpecker named Hugh Nichols and the both of em grew up on ranches. They team-roped together for many yrs and both him n her were top=notch hands. Remember Bustin Loose? Oh yeah, thats right, we's bad, Richard Pryor? They leased the land some of the movie was shot on cuz their ranch was located and spread out onto Florence, AZ, where the state pen is. Trivia.
Uncle Richey may have been crusty. Many a time although we had absolutely no grudge about nuthin about the other, we duked it out in Los Hermanos, just for ****s and giggles. Bet ya all will think I am somehow talkin trash here. Uncle Richy & I were the only 2 who carried a length of rusty barbed wire and those cheap cardboard salt n pepper shakers in our saddlebags. Me n him found ourselves togethr with a bull calf that had avoided the last yrs round-up, we threw a loop over that sucker and snubbed him head to tree at the 1st convenient location. We then castrated him on the spot and the barbed wire was used for skewers. We roasted them pups on the spot, often over a stinkassed makeshift fire made of green Palo Verde wood or Creosote bush. We got the seasonings out, life was GOOD, and we laughed off the bandaids stickin to us from the night before. We made any peace needed made over a freshly cooked calf nut and grinned like 2 kids what found the vaseline for the 1st time. Safe to say I cried bad when Uncle Richey went down. He was the worst abuser of Virgie cookin topless, a lecherous ol prick but dang I wish he were back. She even got to the point where she would humor him at 0400 and badmouth any manhood he may have ever had. The rest of us eagerly awaited the eggs, we had all seen tits before. I tell you this truthfully. When Uncle Richey drew Rat in the lotto he was one miserable, pizzed-off camper. That sucker would snivvel bad and scuff his boots in manure, kicking and lashing out at having been blessed with riding the worst no count plug the TU had. Rat had mental health problems which I mentioned before. He would not lead. Not one step. Not 1. Tug on that lead rope and that dude would plant his legs and say tug away fool, I aint taking a step. So if you got him as yur ride for the day he was swell so long as you opened and closed gates from his back, knew that once you dismounted that parking spot was HIS. Many raked rowels of spurs across his flanks. Rat dont budge was bottom line. So Uncle Richey had a bright idea one night. We had come back at days end. We had call showered (solar) and put on our best frizzled jeans heading out to the nightly battle at Los Hermanos. Uncle Richy come up with a bright idea. That 5th wheel ball on the 1 ton flatbed would certainly hold if we tied Rat to it and drug him into town for a little drink or 18. We put 3 of the studiest nylon halters on him and tied him to it. We all thought (even me) it would break him of his not-leading habit.
It was about 3/4 mile to Los Hermanos, and that sucker never took a willing step the whole way. I was screaming about the sparks flying off my horseshoe nails as he locked em tight and skidded the whole way there. Safe to say we drug his ass to the bar. Rats renoun had preceded him, and El Pedio came to the back door trying to feed him chili verdes and comfort him, but alas, Rat wasnt in a green chile mood and lashed out at ol El Pedio with a hind leg. This pissed El Pedio off so bad he sunk his own quarters in the jukebox and we listened to Maggie Mae ALL NIGHT LONG. The bad part is we got so drunk we fergot we hjad a horse tied to the 5th wheel, and Rat set land speed records that night returning home. And to think anyone questioned as to why all the hide was missing from his right side? He evidently laid down on the job at about the time Poncho was pouring the gas to the truck. Virgie was the one who made the announcement the next morning that the truck was tied to a horse. Hell, it wasnt intentional, we all went out to make sure the truck was ok. Uncle Richey just looked out the window of the main house and giggled. I think it was this very morning that he tried flick the flea off Virgies nipple, and all hell broke loose. Yep. Me n Uncle Richey kept each other straight in bad times. After the plane in plane out incident, Miguel and I fired him so many shotguns in his sleep he ate 5 eggs that morning and we all called him out as a greedy hoarder. Could have sold him a 2 oz bag of Pringles for $19 that afternoon, and got a cool 10 bucks for a Frostie Root Beer. Yeah. We took him outta his element in a big way. Virgies former boyfriend was a DEA agent (true blue) and she threatened Uncle Richey with incarceration if he dint clean up his act. Word of this filtered up to Frank n Phyllus, and Frank told him in no uncertain terms that dope smoking and cattle ranching dont mix. Phyllus buried her head in a Kleenex and tried choke back the laughter best she could cuz Uncle Richey was the Original *******. It was the best of times my friends. Buster never would have gotten broke the way he was were it not for a rolling paper or 2 to calm the rodeo on my part. There is sumthin to be said if you find yurself once more on the ground and hurting with horse**** packed up yur nostrils. Break one out, try communicate with the horse. This when I told Buster "listen up dude. This getting bucked off and crawling back on gets old. Lets just split this reefer like the friends I know we wanna be, I'll make yu a sammich and break out the cold water, Cant we all jus git along?
Horse whispering. Not as complicated at it may seem.
Do any of you really know the feeling of having domesticated a wild animal, only to share Frostie Root Beers with him and kick it around later? I have my doubts. This is why they bring their horses to me, I dont come to them.
 

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Discussion Starter · #12 ·
Now yes I do realize that Hog Choker is suckin on his knuckles wishing the story wont end so soon. Good news for him. Have Jamie read it to you later as you snore buddy. While you are asleep thinkin you are getting over on me, she will pick up on that she has never been around a dickslinger like me what can throw down and notch a cows ear any old time. I hear there is a certain defined patronage seeking out ear-notchers. There aint many of us left, and those still in business are curtailing just who our clientele is. Dont come by here jamming me bro if yur ol lady shows up one day with a forked tongue and lame story.
You show this to her Brad and I can only hope you give her an appetizer before and rub her shoulders as she reads it.
 

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Discussion Starter · #13 ·
PanMan I am ashamed. Just when I sit here wondering just what it will take for you to bust loose, kill that cat, and leave yur family. Fer crissake, how many credentials does one need? Sure I am the best farrier to ever exist, but I can downplay the hype. Now dammit dude, there are those among us who would never ever say so, but yur achievements poweriing moonshots are duly noted. Now at just exactly what point will you rest on yur laurels comfortable, knowing you have done everything right. The wife and kids you have no doubt been a pillar to and I say that with the utmost respect. I have 1 brother, 9 yrs older than me. He is you all over again. I respect him as much as I do you man. But damn, same as with him, I am wondering if the day will ever come that the 2 of us can loosen up. We are exact opposites, and each others worst critiques. Ya know, I it hurts. I want to meet my PanMan who listens to a Whiter Shade of Pale, cough some, talk absolute trash about everyone including our families. Have you not yet gone down that hot dusty trail long enuf where it is inconceivable that we act like 2 kids and kill for Frostie Root Beer? I have forgotten more about professionalism than most will ever know. As long as we have known each other, all you do is catch bass and eat em. Yur ol lady has that Death-to-You look any time I come by. I say its time we billow out our sails and live free. Can you imagine just how many pleasant trips it will take just to talk about Devis-Gayton?
I promise I will do my best to send you home with such red eyes that yur ol lady will buy an AK47 just in case I ever visit again. Man, that girl scares the bejeepers outta me. Count on me to not be there eating up all the potato salad at yur funeral.
 

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Discussion Starter · #14 ·
Lets get sumthin hammered out and settled right now. Gay or racial. I have no time for either, but if I meet a radical racial gay bet yur azz I will post about it. I just hope it aint a close encounter. Whats wrong with gay? C,mon, speak up, I defended yur freedom of speech now use it. Okay, so the visual with the backdoor view and swing nutzin may be too graphic for many. I have to take a Dramamine myself before viewing such things to be honest. I wasnt always this permissive in my attitude towards such I will have you know, it wasnt until Slaphappy came clean and said heck yes he had kissed a man that my guard dropped and I became open to this. I mean I still am disguusted at the very thought but after being around Dayton for a cpl yrs hell I am open to anything, but it better not hurt. If I need to be cuffed, stuffed, and taken advantage of, I have a 53 yr old school marm living just on the other side of the duplex. Bet I can make her 2nd-graders wonder what happened to the teacher they once knew. She is lazy though. Whines about having to mow 6 sq ft when I dont do it for her. Oh hell yeah, I have been dieing to sport one inside her, no doubt bout it. Guys, she comes outside in her jammies and bends over all the time petting the very cats I dream of killing. Wasabi: you spent a night with me, I want some feedback you backstabbin sumbich. Ok Ok jus kiddin. What, in yur professional opinion, makes my ol lady wrong all the time, leaving me only to be right? It seems very one-sided, and I am sick of being right all the dam time. No wonder Barack Obama feels the pressure.
 

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Discussion Starter · #15 ·
Oh hell no.
The espoused step-mistress just called saying she is keeping an eye on me. Well, I may need policing, granted, but I was hoping for someone else with a bigger rack and more tolerance of snoring fat bald men. These wimmen are devious creatures as we all know. Now she wants to play that silly snipe at you game. Fer crissake, does she not realize that the last sniper got bent over a bale of hay and was sent packin'? I mean no, it wasnt.....no bale, no hay......damnit lady I kept the Munching Dragon locked within his cage for the whole 21 yrs. Holy buckits baby, for all the hype, nary a lip has passed into that chamber but yurs in 2 decades you silly woman. Yes, I know. But admit it, you wouldnt have had it any other way at the time. Dont be haggin on me cuz of yur double knee replacement surgery. As I recollect it you were saying "See what you can do with this." Swishing that thing wild and yonder right there, as if I were yur personal proctologist.
I got bad news for ya honey. You take that to a taker more desperate than what you think I am. I am so self-pleasured that I run to the ER if my fist wont unwrap within 4 hrs so there. Ha ha ha, and the same fist that cooks my meals and mows the lawn. Oh who is left alone now? Poor Willie. He thinks he has done sumthin wrong and I am his boss. I must say that no matter how you thought all that screaming would get you in the 'hood, I have offers from strange girls I have never seen before that offer counselling but not meal-planning. Hell, I got some Cracker Jacks here and as you well know, a meal can be missed if need be. I am sorry to tell you that even a 54 yr old can have a mental lapse. I damn near tore the curtains down with my tongue last night as I spanked and said you best well know I am yur Daddy.
 

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Discussion Starter · #18 ·
Not to worry bros. Goodness gracious granny. I think I licked her to death. She aint moving but she is expending wind. I'd fart too if someone put a tongue-lashing on me like that. Oh stash it. So I am in love and her gas is patchouli scented. This crazy ***** seems to think that she can **** out on my bed now. Little does she know that I like to haul the buckin bull out for encore presentario. Trick or Treat Honey. Better git used to my ways or you will never be handed the job of removing skid marks from my chonies. Verna, cant you talk to these girlz? What the heck is wrong here? What exactly is it that girlz want? Fer crissake, I knew I have gone way below the course of normal duty. I cant go on like thius much longer with her squaling like a hog, and Boudrkeaux jum,p[img me mfrom behind.I am going o bed. Let her scream all night long, I will doo my part.
Hmmmm. Do I just go to sleep next to her, or shag Oprah?
 
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