It was eight in the morning when he finally set foot between the vast area that was covered with stables. Immediately his progress was halted by someone who was cleaning the stables.
“Hey. What do you want here?” The voice emitting from the darkness belonged to a short muscular man with a pitchfork stained with horseshit. Even though he was almost one full head shorter than Ben, the way he carried himself was unmistakable. He could have been an eight foot club bouncer, there would have been no difference in the behavior.
“Hi, I am from the Peterson Farm a bit further down the road. Kate and a few people from here – workers I suppose came by. They were interested in a few mares.”
“So?”
Yup, that guy would really be the perfect bouncer for a high flying club somewhere in the better parts of the city. The kind of bouncer that doesn’t give a shit how popular your name is and how many albums you have sold and would reject Frank Sinatra if he wasn’t on the list.
“Well I was thinking that I could maybe talk a little bit with...”
“Nope. Look, man, this may look like an ordinary stable to you, but this is a fucking farm. A breeding farm. If we let anyone in here, we...”
Ben’s thoughts drifted off. He envisioned the guy in front of him at the entrance of a club with a bunch of Teenie-hotheads in front of him. All of them riding the current wave of fashion and teenie dreams hard, their faces all plastered over the news and the magazines, million dollar deals at their fingertips. And with this guy simply raising an eyebrow at all those explanations why they have to get into the club.
A giggle rose in the back of Ben’s throat.
“Whatcha smilin at?”
“Nothing. Something just flashed into my mind. Sorry. I’ll just be popping along then”, he babbled.
In every decent movie or book this would have been the point where Kate or any other person would casually come by, wearing some kind of sunglasses or skimpy outfit and tell the ‘stable-bouncer’ that it was all all right. That Ben was a friend and that he should calm down. They would have mad the pitchfork waving angryguy apologize his ass off or murmur some kind of insult and be waved through.
However, this being neither a decent movie nor book, Ben found himself firmly shoved back out by way of a pitchfork casually being moved closer and closer toward him by sheer coincidence.
Sighing, he turned and limped all the way back to where he came from, feeling frustrated and annoyed. Couldn’t that guy simply have left him in? This was a fucking breeding farm, why were they so obnoxious about letting him in? He could have been a paying customer wanting to buy a horse. Or whatever. It was not like he was going to march in and steal a fucking horse!
Growling, Ben stalked home and let himself into the house. Trying once more to pass the day with media and failing miserably. The countryside was fucking boring and his only pass-time was secured behind a pitchfork-wielding madman. What a mess.
...
Credits
Special Thanks to:
Mayfryn who made the first pledge on 27. April 2018 Brandon who made the first pledge on 30. April 2018
After the events of the previous night Ben is longing for company. He has decided to check out Black Stallion farm and see if he can't gain access to Tom there.
If you would like to read more about the story, check out my patreon account
