#111 - "Who'd invent a job like that?"
“I swear to God, Margene!” Laine MacEibhir had her head in her hands and her shoulders were shaking with laughter. “It ain’t like that…you just…you don’t think about it and just got to do it. Shit, how the hell…do you have to make everythin’ be so nasty?”
There was more laughter, snorting from Laine and absolute cackles from her blonde friend as they sat in what was to become the nursery. Sorting paint samples and wallpaper swatches was the intended activity but like anything else they did, conversation meandered across a variety of topics.
“Do you wear gloves? I mean are you practicing safe-“
Laine threw a handful of swatches across the room. When Margene got off on one of her tangents, derailing her could take a while. “Shut up and help me pick somethin’ here. Anrai ain’t any help with this stuff.”
“It’d be a lot easier to help if you told me if you were having a boy or a girl.” Margene batted her long lashes and pouted her lips as she waved two pieces of paper at the expectant mother, one blue and one pink.
“We don’t know. I told you that. We’re waitin’ until Bump here is born. It’ll be a surprise.”
“Laine, we live in the modern world. There are things like 3-D ultrasounds for a reason and that reason is nursery themes and baby wardrobes.” Margie held up a pink and purple floral nightmare and paired it with a butter cream paint tile. “Now how precious is this?”
Horrified, Laine shook her head. Where those samples even came from-her best friend must have added her own selections to the ones Laine picked out. “Over my dead body.”
“If you have a girl, I’m buying her the pinkest, frilliest, girliest dresses I can find. Ribbons and bows and glitter and…” Margie trailed off when she noticed the lethal glint in Laine’s blue eyes.
“Can we go back to talkin’ about horse breedin’?”
Impish as always, the blonde perked up. “Only if you answer my questions this time.”
“Lord. Fine.” Bitch. Laine rolled her eyes and mentally braced herself. “What obscene thing you got runnin’ around in your rotten brain now?”
“Is it more like milking a cow or giving that gorgeous husband of yours a hand job?”
“Margene!” She pulled a pillow out from behind her back and flung it at her friend. Of all the outrageous things Margene could have asked, that was not one that Laine had banked on. At all. “What in the blue corn hell is the matter with you, woman?”
“Have you looked at christening gowns yet?” Innocent and airy, Margene began laying out pairs of paint and paper, each one more frivolous and feminine than the next, none of them anything Laine would ever choose. “I’m thinking something with petite lace and…”
Resigned to being tormented, Laine rubbed the side of her rounded belly and muttered, “I ain’t never milked a cow as long as I’ve lived.” Then she fixed the other woman with a glare that just dared Margene to ask another question.
Margene held her gaze for a full minute before dissolving into schoolgirl giggles.
“What?”
“You know the saying, ‘hung like a…’ It’s true, right?”
“I am not tellin’ you that.”
“Oh, come on…tell me or I’ll just ask him.”
“He’s down in the barn, go ahead.” She shrugged. Anrai could field Margene’s questions with the best of them.
“Maybe later. I’d hate to interrupt in case I’d ruin the mood.” Blonde eyebrows waggled suggestively even as she shook her head at a mustard yellow paint swatch Laine held up questioningly.
Sometimes Laine boggled at the way Margene managed to make even the most innocent of statements into something utterly perverted. Other times, she was simply in awe of her friend’s selective hearing. “How many times do I have to tell you that we ain’t doin’ things that way unless the horses ain’t cooperatin’?”
“Three more.”
“Smart ass.” Laine sorted through several different shades of pale blue. “Not all breeders feel the need to jump on the artificial insemination bandwagon.”
“You guys are basically pony pimps. Running a horsie whore house.” Sea foam green and white. Maybe a sunny yellow, the blues were right out.
The way they were sorting and swapping wallpaper was beginning to look like an elaborate card game as Laine removed the greens and snuck one of the blues back into the pile between them. “Thank the sweet Lord you ain’t responsible for our marketing materials.”
“Laine, I’m not the one who has manually gathered semen from a stallion. How do you even learn to do something like that? Is there a class for it? A union? What does a want-ad for that kind of position read like? Who invents a job like that in the first place?” Margene took the blue and ripped it in half. “And you say I’m the perverted one.”
“You are. Now give me that green one with the yellow pinstripes.” Laine stubbornly put another blue into the consideration pool.
There was more laughter, snorting from Laine and absolute cackles from her blonde friend as they sat in what was to become the nursery. Sorting paint samples and wallpaper swatches was the intended activity but like anything else they did, conversation meandered across a variety of topics.
“Do you wear gloves? I mean are you practicing safe-“
Laine threw a handful of swatches across the room. When Margene got off on one of her tangents, derailing her could take a while. “Shut up and help me pick somethin’ here. Anrai ain’t any help with this stuff.”
“It’d be a lot easier to help if you told me if you were having a boy or a girl.” Margene batted her long lashes and pouted her lips as she waved two pieces of paper at the expectant mother, one blue and one pink.
“We don’t know. I told you that. We’re waitin’ until Bump here is born. It’ll be a surprise.”
“Laine, we live in the modern world. There are things like 3-D ultrasounds for a reason and that reason is nursery themes and baby wardrobes.” Margie held up a pink and purple floral nightmare and paired it with a butter cream paint tile. “Now how precious is this?”
Horrified, Laine shook her head. Where those samples even came from-her best friend must have added her own selections to the ones Laine picked out. “Over my dead body.”
“If you have a girl, I’m buying her the pinkest, frilliest, girliest dresses I can find. Ribbons and bows and glitter and…” Margie trailed off when she noticed the lethal glint in Laine’s blue eyes.
“Can we go back to talkin’ about horse breedin’?”
Impish as always, the blonde perked up. “Only if you answer my questions this time.”
“Lord. Fine.” Bitch. Laine rolled her eyes and mentally braced herself. “What obscene thing you got runnin’ around in your rotten brain now?”
“Is it more like milking a cow or giving that gorgeous husband of yours a hand job?”
“Margene!” She pulled a pillow out from behind her back and flung it at her friend. Of all the outrageous things Margene could have asked, that was not one that Laine had banked on. At all. “What in the blue corn hell is the matter with you, woman?”
“Have you looked at christening gowns yet?” Innocent and airy, Margene began laying out pairs of paint and paper, each one more frivolous and feminine than the next, none of them anything Laine would ever choose. “I’m thinking something with petite lace and…”
Resigned to being tormented, Laine rubbed the side of her rounded belly and muttered, “I ain’t never milked a cow as long as I’ve lived.” Then she fixed the other woman with a glare that just dared Margene to ask another question.
Margene held her gaze for a full minute before dissolving into schoolgirl giggles.
“What?”
“You know the saying, ‘hung like a…’ It’s true, right?”
“I am not tellin’ you that.”
“Oh, come on…tell me or I’ll just ask him.”
“He’s down in the barn, go ahead.” She shrugged. Anrai could field Margene’s questions with the best of them.
“Maybe later. I’d hate to interrupt in case I’d ruin the mood.” Blonde eyebrows waggled suggestively even as she shook her head at a mustard yellow paint swatch Laine held up questioningly.
Sometimes Laine boggled at the way Margene managed to make even the most innocent of statements into something utterly perverted. Other times, she was simply in awe of her friend’s selective hearing. “How many times do I have to tell you that we ain’t doin’ things that way unless the horses ain’t cooperatin’?”
“Three more.”
“Smart ass.” Laine sorted through several different shades of pale blue. “Not all breeders feel the need to jump on the artificial insemination bandwagon.”
“You guys are basically pony pimps. Running a horsie whore house.” Sea foam green and white. Maybe a sunny yellow, the blues were right out.
The way they were sorting and swapping wallpaper was beginning to look like an elaborate card game as Laine removed the greens and snuck one of the blues back into the pile between them. “Thank the sweet Lord you ain’t responsible for our marketing materials.”
“Laine, I’m not the one who has manually gathered semen from a stallion. How do you even learn to do something like that? Is there a class for it? A union? What does a want-ad for that kind of position read like? Who invents a job like that in the first place?” Margene took the blue and ripped it in half. “And you say I’m the perverted one.”
“You are. Now give me that green one with the yellow pinstripes.” Laine stubbornly put another blue into the consideration pool.