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First You Get The Truck
The rusty desert road stretched lazily toward the horizon in both directions from the Shady Acres Diner, a hundred miles outside of Las Vedas, New Mexico. Sue-Sandy swung her hips onto a stool at the long red Formica counter. Her pink rayon blouse had tinsel trim and her name was embroidered on the chest in sparkly script. From where she sat near the window she could see at first just a small cloud of dust in the distance, coming west down the road. The cloud of dust grew slowly into a semi, a tanker.
“Bambi, give me a whiskey, will ya?”
Bambi came with the drink. Sue-Sandy took a stiff pull. The tanker was pulling over at the Shady Acres. Sue-Sandy pulled a compact out of her pocket book and checked her face.
The door swung open and a figure entered the bar, backlit by the scorching desert sun, set off in dusty chiaroscuro. He approached the counter slowly, as if he had nothing to prove to nobody and took a seat near Sue-Sandy.
“What you haulin’ in that tank, partner?” Sue-Sandy leaned toward him, flashed a little cleavage and gave him a wink.
“Poop.”
“Poop?”
“Raw sewerage, baby. Can you swing with that?” He slid over to the stool next to her and grabbed her by her sturdy hips.
First you get the truck, then you get the poop, and then you get the pussy.
Date Written: April 11, 2003
Author: Ewan Snow
Average Vote: 4.5