laughed again.
“Me, too,” said Pete. “I can’t believe I tried to sneak out without her knowing. She gets to damn mean when I have to leave town on a moment’s notice. She always thinks I’m going to sleep with some hooker. I swear it was only one time.”
Bobby looked at Pete. “No you didn’t.”
Pete stared at Bobby with a straight face and then burst out laughing. “Nah, but I fooled you didn’t I.” He slapped Bobby’s shoulder.
“If you don’t mind me saying, you should take her down a pike or two. She’s going to get both of you arrested one of these days.”
“Shit,” said Pete, as he wiped the sweat that had beaded on his forehead from the fear of his wife executing him in front of the neighbors. “She’d cut my balls off while I’m awake, not sleeping—then she’d mail them to Masterson in a Mason jar.”
“No shit. He’d probably keep them on his desk to remind everyone that he’ll get your balls one way or another.” They both laughed again. They were off to the airport for their quick, two-day getaway. They will get the report and they will be back home before they know it.
“What time is it?” asked Pete. “It’s three-fifty,” said Bobby as he leaned back in the seat at the airport terminal. His eyes are closed with his chin pointed toward the ceiling. Bobby and Pete sat next to each other in the terminal for flight 1423, leaving from the Cheyenne Regional Airport on a straight flight to Nashville, Tennessee. From there they plan to drive up Interstate 65 to the Miller farm just on the other side of the state line. Bobby had been surprised that Mr. Masterson actually booked them a straight flight, knowing how much of a cheap prick he is. Of course, it is not all easy sailing. Mr. Masterson did book them a cheap hotel in Nashville, so they would have to travel back from Kentucky to sleep the night before heading back to Wyoming. Pete told Bobby that as much as they hate Mr. Masterson, there really is no place decent place to stay between Nashville and Bowling Green. At least not for a couple of out-of-towners like themselves, but they both did however agree that Masterson is still a low-life scumbag considering he rented them the cheapest car on the lot at the rental place. He put the screws to them anyway he could.
“We’re going to look like a couple of Yankees for sure, riding up there in a damn Prius,” said Pete. “I’ll let you drive since you’re used to driving the tiny girlish cars.” He chuckled. Bobby shook his head and didn’t say a word. Pete noticed the coffee shop inside the airport turning their CLOSED sign around to OPEN. “I’m going to get a cup of coffee,” said Pete. “You want one?”
Bobby opened his eyes and looked over at the coffee stand. “We’re about to get on the plane.”
“No we’re not,” said Pete as he walked toward the stand. “Plane’s not even here yet. Remember. They grounded the flights last night because of all that shit that happened.” Just as Pete turned around, the plane pulled up to the terminal. He shrugged his shoulders and walked back to where Bobby sat. “Damn. I guess they’ll have coffee on the plane. Won’t be that good stuff. Probably will taste like shit water.”
“I’m assuming you know what shit water taste like?” asked Bobby.
“No, but it couldn’t be any worse than doing a news story on a smelly fucking farm with dead cows.”
“That’s right. Let’s get this trip over with buddy.” Bobby stood up and grabbed his bag. They walked over to where the flight attendant stood taking tickets, and waited in line with all the other travelers. “I didn’t realize this many people traveled to Nashville.” said Bobby.
“Probably going to the Grand Ole Opry. Hey, maybe we can catch the show tonight. It is Friday you know,” said Pete. ‘Maybe see Merle Haggard or Gene Watson. That would be cool.”
“Yeah. I suppose it would,” said Bobby as he rolled his eyes. We’ll
“Me, too,” said Pete. “I can’t believe I tried to sneak out without her knowing. She gets to damn mean when I have to leave town on a moment’s notice. She always thinks I’m going to sleep with some hooker. I swear it was only one time.”
Bobby looked at Pete. “No you didn’t.”
Pete stared at Bobby with a straight face and then burst out laughing. “Nah, but I fooled you didn’t I.” He slapped Bobby’s shoulder.
“If you don’t mind me saying, you should take her down a pike or two. She’s going to get both of you arrested one of these days.”
“Shit,” said Pete, as he wiped the sweat that had beaded on his forehead from the fear of his wife executing him in front of the neighbors. “She’d cut my balls off while I’m awake, not sleeping—then she’d mail them to Masterson in a Mason jar.”
“No shit. He’d probably keep them on his desk to remind everyone that he’ll get your balls one way or another.” They both laughed again. They were off to the airport for their quick, two-day getaway. They will get the report and they will be back home before they know it.
“What time is it?” asked Pete. “It’s three-fifty,” said Bobby as he leaned back in the seat at the airport terminal. His eyes are closed with his chin pointed toward the ceiling. Bobby and Pete sat next to each other in the terminal for flight 1423, leaving from the Cheyenne Regional Airport on a straight flight to Nashville, Tennessee. From there they plan to drive up Interstate 65 to the Miller farm just on the other side of the state line. Bobby had been surprised that Mr. Masterson actually booked them a straight flight, knowing how much of a cheap prick he is. Of course, it is not all easy sailing. Mr. Masterson did book them a cheap hotel in Nashville, so they would have to travel back from Kentucky to sleep the night before heading back to Wyoming. Pete told Bobby that as much as they hate Mr. Masterson, there really is no place decent place to stay between Nashville and Bowling Green. At least not for a couple of out-of-towners like themselves, but they both did however agree that Masterson is still a low-life scumbag considering he rented them the cheapest car on the lot at the rental place. He put the screws to them anyway he could.
“We’re going to look like a couple of Yankees for sure, riding up there in a damn Prius,” said Pete. “I’ll let you drive since you’re used to driving the tiny girlish cars.” He chuckled. Bobby shook his head and didn’t say a word. Pete noticed the coffee shop inside the airport turning their CLOSED sign around to OPEN. “I’m going to get a cup of coffee,” said Pete. “You want one?”
Bobby opened his eyes and looked over at the coffee stand. “We’re about to get on the plane.”
“No we’re not,” said Pete as he walked toward the stand. “Plane’s not even here yet. Remember. They grounded the flights last night because of all that shit that happened.” Just as Pete turned around, the plane pulled up to the terminal. He shrugged his shoulders and walked back to where Bobby sat. “Damn. I guess they’ll have coffee on the plane. Won’t be that good stuff. Probably will taste like shit water.”
“I’m assuming you know what shit water taste like?” asked Bobby.
“No, but it couldn’t be any worse than doing a news story on a smelly fucking farm with dead cows.”
“That’s right. Let’s get this trip over with buddy.” Bobby stood up and grabbed his bag. They walked over to where the flight attendant stood taking tickets, and waited in line with all the other travelers. “I didn’t realize this many people traveled to Nashville.” said Bobby.
“Probably going to the Grand Ole Opry. Hey, maybe we can catch the show tonight. It is Friday you know,” said Pete. ‘Maybe see Merle Haggard or Gene Watson. That would be cool.”
“Yeah. I suppose it would,” said Bobby as he rolled his eyes. We’ll
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