sixwordstories | (no subject)

Pig farming?

'bout the fuckin' size of it.

Ever tried actual farming? You get a variety of animals that way.

A lot of animals don’t eat shite, including the bone of shite.

That's your attraction to pigs?

Naw. I'm just fer them little, itty, baby oinkers, cutest darn thing I ever clapped eyes on.

Ah, sarcasm. The lowest form of wit.

That’s alright; folks tell ya I am the lowest form without wit. I don’t give a flyin’ rats arse.

And which folks should I ask? I mean, a guy that comes with humor references about pigs and fecal matter has to be someone important.

If ya think a guy like that is important, y’all need to get out more.

I wouldn't argue with that, but running a farm is hard work. A regular one, not just a pig one.

Everything is bloody hard.
Not that I’m a fella to talk, I don’t do datin’, not since ---well shite --- I can’t even call it a divorce, it was more a we’re happy not being the fuck in each other’s faces.

Nothing wrong with not dating; I don't. I was just saying why I don't get out. I love my farm and I'd do anything to keep it running smoothly, including sacrificing my social life.

Sounds like a happy time in your life.

Likely the fuckin' smartest thing to do. Way I hear ‘bout the datin’ scene of late if you’re over twenty, not a poofta, and don't sparkle, you’re shite out of luck. Don’t reckon I’m missin’ out on nothin’.

Didn’t I yack to you ‘bout a couch?

And if you're a woman and not willing to put out after a few drinks? Forget it.

... sounds familiar. What was your name again?

Damian James.
And you are... *pauses clicking his fingers thinking.* what’s-her-face, double name, ending in something like a whale. Oh yeah---Beth Ann.

[Very nearly rolls her eyes but smiles.]

Yes. Just like a Whale. That's me.