Sometimes a man turns to the sun in the west, pulls back his hat, and screams in sheer, unadulterated horror at the wrongness of it all. When you’re on the great plains, and your only friend’s yer horse, and he’s gotten a restraining order and you can’t come within 500 feet…when you’ve eaten beans all week, and then you sit too close to the old campfire, and there’s kind of a flare of bright light and then nothin’ for a few days, and then you gotta climb onto a saddle and ride for six or eight hours, and you know, they say it burns twice, and that’s pretty much the truth of it…but mostly, when the cows start chanting in a low chorus and one of them turns toward you and it’s got a HUMAN FACE and it says your name, they ALL say your name, and you know that even so, it’s still time for them to take the last ride on the cargo train tomorrow, and you’re getting paid for it, faces or no faces…that’s when you gotta scream.
But that’s your Thursday scream, because tomorrow’s probably worse.
Savers on Burnet near 2222, Austin
One Response to “…and the ugly.”
Maybe he’s yodeling?