Obviously, I’m not the kind of farm boy or redneck who, well, I’m not any kind of farm boy or redneck. I didn’t know anything about chickens or why camo clothes worked when they were just big blotchy, scratchy things, or even how to light a fire, which crossed my mind because it was freezing in there. The chickens at least helped keep me warm, and these two, at least, were very pretty. I didn’t know a c**k from a hen…
I couldn’t believe I had thought that.
I heard a loud yawn followed by a rumbling fart and the squeaks of bed springs.
“Get off me!” came out from the bed, and chickens flew everywhere, except for my two, who behaved rather well.
I presumed all that racket was from Art. I mean, who else? I heard thuds and some mumbled cursing, then the indoor outhouse door slam. Minutes l
