100 Below

A Meme from the non-angst ridden, perpetually euphoric and never dyspeptic Big Hominid.

Here's my one hundred word story:

We drank beers on the porch, as men do.

Uncle John talked of the Pacific. Dad talked of Korea. I talked about the farm.

"Uncle John, it's hard to explain how wonderful it felt to ride on the tractor next to Roger, the wind at our backs, the city boy spreading manure with his cousin. I didn't even mind getting covered by spray."

Uncle John put down his beer, strong hands clutching his sides, chortling gleefully. He rubbed his bald pate, his grin framed by ruddy cheeks, "Hell, boy! Roger knew better than to drive downwind trailing a spreader!"