Cow Rite 4: Roadie, Oh!

aslargeasalone

Getting back into the flow of writing, mostly with wordplay and poems. I'm a creative soul, from childhood to middle age, and my joy is to produce new things the world has never seen before. I'm an educator from the USA working as a college professor of lit and music. I'm learning to love myself little by little.


Twenty minutes later, Snifty leaned back against his bar and wiped his brow against the bar rag. The Turvey had never had so many patrons as there were here today. None of them knew anyone else, but they were all here for the same thing: The Tweaking. In the tweaking of an eye, they had arrived.

The time and the people were converging on a single spot. It wasn't the Turvey, but it was nearby; those who stuck here were those who had missed their mark. And soon, Mark emerged from the restroom, hugging tearful friends and relations as they headed back to their dromedaries and such to move on to the real target. The Cattle Call. And all that would be squeezed from life. The communal cry of "Let us Spray!" would ring out among the hills and mysterious pillars carved seemingly out of the landscape.

And it was all coming today.

The trailer was rattling with its cooling engine as its driver rattled with hot caffeine in a coffee mixture. Some were drinking beer that shone through the iced lager glasses.

Some tea.


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