Read Online Adirondack Audacity by L.R. Smolarek - Free Book Online Page B

so, smarty.” Unfortunately Scott finishes his complement
with this parting sting, “You work like a little heifer, a
little she cow with a strong back and hunches.”
Heifer!! My mind screams at the unintended insult,
picturing a large black and white Holstein dairy cow
placidly chewing her cud, over inflated udders swinging as
she saunters back to the barn. She cow! Is my butt that
big? I give a dubious glance at my behind. I hear Vic
snort, choking on his laughter.
That’s it, I’m done here. I turn to place the bucket on
a hook, and as luck would have it, in doing so I step on
the rake propped against the wall. The rake handle
springs forward, whacking me on the head, and with the
heavy bucket in my arms, I lose my balance…and fall
sideways……. into the loaded wheelbarrow… full of
“you know what”……followed by the bucket of water
crashing over my head. Splat!
I’m sitting in manure, wet smelly disgusting horse
poop seeping into my new jeans with a bucket over my
head… Please God, let me die now, if you love me you’d
grant me this one wish. I cannot face Scott and Vic Rienz
covered with horse shit. Howls of hysterical laughter
echo in the tin bucket. Well, there is nothing to be done
for it; God refuses to grant my death wish. I can’t sit in a
pile of horse shit for eternity. And obviously, there will be
no help from the two of them. I pull the bucket off my
head; wipe the hair out of my eyes only to smear manure
down the side of my face….sending the two of them into
further bouts of laughter. Slumped on the stall floor, Vic
rocks back and forth laughing, “Oh my God; I’ve never
seen anything so funny in my entire life. She’s covered
with horse shit.”
“Wet shit, no less!” Scott says in a fit of laughter.
“Here, let me help you get out.” Scott wipes the tears
from his eyes as he sees me struggling to my feet, trying
not to bury myself further in the muck. “I’m sorry, we
shouldn’t laugh but you look so damn funny! Like a little
heifer that slipped coming into the barnyard.” This only
sends Vic into another bout of laughter as he staggers to
his feet, leaning against the wall, hands on his knees
trying to catch his breath. I hope he chokes to death…
As much as I’d love to be a good sport…some things
are beyond humor. Lying in a pool of filth in front of the
man that fills my fantasy dreams….and the jackass who
has become my new nightmare, I just want to cry. So help
me if I cry, I will personally hang myself.
Taking Scott’s hand to pull myself out of the black
fetid muck, I turn on them, my voice dripping in venom,
“If either of you…..so much as breathes a word of this to
anyone…….and I mean anyone, I will haunt you every
day for the rest of your miserable lives and the lives of
your children and grandchildren.” Pointing my finger at
them with a vengeance, I intone, “Do you understand
me.” The two of them nod, biting their lips to keep from
laughing. Jerks! I turn with as much dignity as I can
muster to stalk out of the barn, but not before I see Scott
trying to wipe his manure covered hands on something
other than his clothing, thus sending them into further
hysterics.
Ughhhhhhh …there aren’t enough Twinkies in the
world to make this feel better.
…
Later that evening as the sun nestles down behind the
mountain range, and all the little campers are snug asleep
in their bunks with visions of swimming, archery and
nature hikes dancing in their heads. It’s time for the
counselors to gather at the dining hall for some needed
rest and relaxation. The camp cooks, Frank and Marsha,
started a tradition they called “Night Owls.” A few times
a week they put out an assortment of leftovers from the
day’s meals, adding homemade cookies and batches of
hot buttered popcorn. A time to gather, kick back and
relax at the end of the day. And everyone loves Frank and
Marsha, not just for their culinary talents, but