Between Me and the Sun
His Point of View
Whut in the hell is that piece a shit pickup doin’ parked in my lot? I don’t believe my fuckin’ eyes! Jack Twist, king a the fuckups. I cain’t believe the government sent that pissant back here after the mess he made a things last year. Lazy little mama’s boy. You’d think he was a nut-cut calf the way he bitched and moaned. And I got myself a real good idea about Jackie Twist and how he swings. Boy’s a little too proud a that shiny ass belt buckle, always drawin’ attention ta his crotch. Oh yeah. I got a good idea about Jack Twist. In the right situation, a boy like Twist’d be on his knees gobblin’ your pecker before ya could say Jack Robinson. Now, it ain’t unheard of for men on the range ta get horny enough ta give each other a helpin’ hand, but that’s different. Some guys do it ‘cause they got no choice, but Twist… that pissant would swallah all ya give him ta swallah and beg for more. Turns my stomach. As if that ain’t enough, look at that sad sack leanin’ up against my trailer like a bum waitin’ for a fuckin’ handout. Well, he ain’t goin’ a find no charity here. That shit starts at home. Don’t know why the God damned government in its infinite wisdom made me take two men this year. Cain’t make no profit like that. Had to double the fuckin’ supply order and get the pup tent out a the piece a shit shed that don’t even keep rain off the rats. Fuckin’ stray cat had a litter on the damn thing. Soon as I smelled it I knew I was goin’ a make Twist the high camp herder. That raggedy-ass stringbean can sleep soft in the lower camp with a nice cozy fire. He looks about as dense as a bag a bricks and prob’ly ain’t got two nickels ta rub together. Them ranch stiffs git their pay on Friday, got nuthin’ left for the collection plate on Sunday mornin’. Ya can bet the farm he ain’t got no watch. Have ta loan ‘im one and git it back at the end a the season. Shit. Just whut I need. One more fuckin’ gray hair. Cain’t believe I’m sendin’ these two up there with a firearm. One of em’s liable ta shoot the other right through the heart, but the ky-ote problem ain’t goin’ a go away all by itself, now is it? No, it ain’t. Not on your fuckin’ life. Ya got a put ‘em down. Only good ky-ote is a dead ky-ote. Cain’t afford the losses I had last year. I’m goin’ a be keepin’ my eye on Twist this summer. Bet your fuckin’ ass.