Episode 37: The blacksmith
The blacksmith always kept the 20-yard space from the front of his property to the edge of the highway free of weeds. Now, as the rainy season was ending and the fields and hills turned green with vegetation, weeds began to invade the front of our homes. As expected, the blacksmith did what he always did this time of the year. He picked up a hoe and went out to do a clean up. When he finished the side of his property, he was doing so well that he didn’t stop and continued down the slope leading toward our shack.
“Stop there!” DJ hollered from the door. The blacksmith raised his robust body to look around. He didn’t see anybody, so he immersed himself once again into the rhythm of the hoe and the action of his muscular arms attacking and thrusting the blade into the ground surface.
DJ quickly turned on his heels to pick up his Stetson, and out the front door he went like a mad rooster. Crossing the porch, he stopped, puckered up his lips, threw a spit through the front teeth, and walked briskly toward the blacksmith. The blacksmith’s back was turned toward DJ and didn’t see him coming.
“Stop right there, mister!” DJ spoke with brute force.
———- SAMPLE ———–