FanStory.com - Old Merleby Realist101
Exceptional
This work has reached the exceptional level
Bullheadedness and (mild)cussing go hand in hand
Old Merle by Realist101
Flash Fiction contest entry

Old Merle and I were going round 'n round again. He would not let me clean his feet. I picked up a hoof, wham! Down it would go. This went on until my back was ready to quit on me. He was getting testy in his old age.

I guess getting kicked in the head was something to think about, but I wasn't gonna let Merle win. We stood in the barn, having a good old Mexican stand-off. I scratched my head in consternation. It was the principle of the thing now.

I tried again. Wham, down went the hoof. Merle began pulling back on his tie-up lead. This wasn't working. I needed a new plan.

I commenced to clearing a wall in the barn. There would be consequences for Merle. He'd either straighten up, or else. I muttered and swore. I was ready to dance.

I drilled a hole, just nose high, slid a lead rope through, and hung a feedbag filled with eighty pounds of Quick-Crete on the back side of the wall. Now, if Merle wanted to pull back he could. But he'd be lifting eighty pounds every time he did. I led him to his new tie up and sure enough, back he went.

This time, he almost fell on his ass. But he kept pulling and the feed bag went clear up to the hole in the wall. My temper was about to get the best of me. But, sometimes you have to let the stew simmer, so I went back to the house for some refreshment and another call to Bill, our local horse trader.

And still, just his answering machine.

"Hey, Bill! Joe, here. Listen, I gotta a mule that I'm needin'ta sell. Call me back, will ya? Thanks."

I hung up, plumb tuckered out from tussling with Merle. This time, I meant it. Merle was gone. That's just all there was to it. I hoped Bill Tomlinson would take him off my hands. If he didn't, I had an ad in mind already.

"MUST SELL: WORKING MULE, SLIGHTLY STUBBORN: REASONABLE OFFER: CALL JOE VERNON: 818-555-7878".

I walked back out to the barn. Merle was still pulling back, his lead rope as taut as a high wire. I expected it to snap any second too. Me and Merle had gone through dozens of leads over the past few months. It was beginning to become a game.

Carrots were a temptation that Merle used to respond to, but he had become immune to them. I walked to his shoulder, scratching his favorite spot. I'd give it one more try.

"Easy, Merle, you stupid sum'bitch. It's okay now. How 'bout a carrot? Ya used to love 'em." I kept my tone light, but he could tell I was cussin' him.

His left ear pointed at me, I knew he was listening. Yep, Merle listened, he just refused to cooperate.

His left haunch tightened and I just barely got back before his left hoof whistled through the air where my Jim Dandy had just been. I threw the carrot down. I had to get a hold of Tomlinson.

I walked for the umpteenth time back inside to my telephone. It occurred to me that I was going to have to join the masses and get a cellphone. My old joints were beginning to ache with every step.

Bill's phone rang into his answering machine again. I was pretty much in a dither by now and my voice was getting shrill.

"Yeah, Bill? Where ya at? Joe, again. Listen, I really need'ta talk to ya about this mule. Call me soon as ya get in? Thanks."

I clicked the phone down. I gandered at my .22, leaning on the side of the fridge. It occurred to me that Merle just needed to be put out of his misery. But, no, I could use a few bucks. He was surely worth something. I also thought of just turning Merle loose and seeing how far away he'd get. But then, there would be lawsuits and damages to contend with. Nope, I had to sell him. And fast.

Back out in the barn, dust billowed from the door and when I found Merle, there he was, broken lead rope dangling, for all the world looking like he was just waiting for his dinner.

He even let me clean and doctor his feet and when I put him up for the night, he laid his chin on my shoulder like he had a thousand times, as if apologizing to me. And I was glad Bill Tomlinson hadn't been home. Me and old Merle weren't done dancin' yet.

Besides, I needed an excuse to get me one of them new fangled smart phones.


Recognized

Author Notes
I started with 900 words, and have 790(approx.)now. Thanks for reading and to Photobucket.com. AND thank you again for all the kind help from others who have helped me too.

     

© Copyright 2024. Realist101 All rights reserved.
Realist101 has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.




Be sure to go online at FanStory.com to comment on this.
© 2000-2024. FanStory.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement