more than a half-dozen inches of saturated wool and bodies of the individual sheep trying desperately to get away from his weight on their backs.
Looking back, it was probably an inevitable conclusion to the exercise, and maybe even laughable that he hadn’t seen it coming. Maybe at some point in the future he could tell the story humorously. Maybe.
He’d taken a step outward, and the sheep simply wasn’t there. It had juked on him and avoided his big platter-sized foot. His foot and leg went down into the dip, and continued to go down. His other leg bent double and found no resistance to push against in order to help keep him upright.
Then suddenly, there were hooves climbing his back, pushing him underneath the dip. His hand was ripped away from the railing, and he barely had the presence of mind to take a big breath before he went under, closing his eyes and mouth tightly.
Those sheep and their hooves pushed him to the bottom of the channel, but his knees hitting cement reminded him that it was not deep, so he unfolded to stand upright. Reaching out blindly to find the railing again, he pulled himself up to the cement ledge.
Holding onto the railing with one tight hand, he tried to shake the dip from his hair and use the side of one hand to scrape the thick liquid off his face. Oh God , he couldn’t open his eyes yet; this shit would surely blind him. He couldn’t open his mouth either; he’d die if he swallowed this crap.
He pulled himself over the railing, getting away from the dip channel entirely. He was bent over, shaking his head violently back and forth when he heard the four-wheeler driving closer. “Goddammit, boy, did you fall in the dip?” came the terse question.
He nodded, still unwilling to open his mouth. Struck from behind, it felt like the man had rammed him with the four-wheeler. He was scooped up, with his butt up near the storage shelf on the front of the vehicle and his back wedged tightly against the handlebars. Andy held on to the metal mesh of the shelf with his fingers, nearly losing his grip a dozen times, only saving himself from falling off by sheer determination.
The four-wheeler came to an abrupt stop, and he tumbled forward into the dirt. Raising his head, he strained his eyes open a hairsbreadth to squint through his lashes just in time to see a hand reaching down to grab his collar. Dragging him ignominiously across the open area in front of the bunkhouse, the man dropped him into the cement gutter of the outside shower and cranked the water on full.
Andy scrambled to his feet, pushing his face up into the water, sputtering it out of his nose and mouth as he scrubbed frantically at his face, trying to get the cloying dip off him.
“Here, take this, son,” came a gruff order, and he automatically reached out his hand to feel a bar of soap being pushed into it. He grunted in appreciation and raised the bar to his face, only realizing that it was a rough, scrubbing detergent soap after it had scratched his face raw and started burning. He squinted through his lashes again, making a thick lather to attack his hair.
He was rinsing out his hair when he heard, “Strip, son. Get those clothes off before it burns your tender bits crispy.” Nodding his head and squinting out of eyes that were only slightly more open than before, he toed off his soaked boots and then stripped off his shirt, socks, and jeans, standing naked in the water now.
After an additional ten minutes or so of lathering and rinsing his whole body several times, he realized the water was—and had been all along—colder than fuck, and he stepped out of the shower, turning off the faucet. Goddamn, his balls were trying to crawl up into his belly; he was that cold. He hoped he’d gotten all the dip off, but the smell was up in his nose so badly that he wouldn’t be able to tell by smell.
Covered in goose bumps, his eyes tearing, he looked at the man who had helped him. “Never had anyone fall all the way
Looking back, it was probably an inevitable conclusion to the exercise, and maybe even laughable that he hadn’t seen it coming. Maybe at some point in the future he could tell the story humorously. Maybe.
He’d taken a step outward, and the sheep simply wasn’t there. It had juked on him and avoided his big platter-sized foot. His foot and leg went down into the dip, and continued to go down. His other leg bent double and found no resistance to push against in order to help keep him upright.
Then suddenly, there were hooves climbing his back, pushing him underneath the dip. His hand was ripped away from the railing, and he barely had the presence of mind to take a big breath before he went under, closing his eyes and mouth tightly.
Those sheep and their hooves pushed him to the bottom of the channel, but his knees hitting cement reminded him that it was not deep, so he unfolded to stand upright. Reaching out blindly to find the railing again, he pulled himself up to the cement ledge.
Holding onto the railing with one tight hand, he tried to shake the dip from his hair and use the side of one hand to scrape the thick liquid off his face. Oh God , he couldn’t open his eyes yet; this shit would surely blind him. He couldn’t open his mouth either; he’d die if he swallowed this crap.
He pulled himself over the railing, getting away from the dip channel entirely. He was bent over, shaking his head violently back and forth when he heard the four-wheeler driving closer. “Goddammit, boy, did you fall in the dip?” came the terse question.
He nodded, still unwilling to open his mouth. Struck from behind, it felt like the man had rammed him with the four-wheeler. He was scooped up, with his butt up near the storage shelf on the front of the vehicle and his back wedged tightly against the handlebars. Andy held on to the metal mesh of the shelf with his fingers, nearly losing his grip a dozen times, only saving himself from falling off by sheer determination.
The four-wheeler came to an abrupt stop, and he tumbled forward into the dirt. Raising his head, he strained his eyes open a hairsbreadth to squint through his lashes just in time to see a hand reaching down to grab his collar. Dragging him ignominiously across the open area in front of the bunkhouse, the man dropped him into the cement gutter of the outside shower and cranked the water on full.
Andy scrambled to his feet, pushing his face up into the water, sputtering it out of his nose and mouth as he scrubbed frantically at his face, trying to get the cloying dip off him.
“Here, take this, son,” came a gruff order, and he automatically reached out his hand to feel a bar of soap being pushed into it. He grunted in appreciation and raised the bar to his face, only realizing that it was a rough, scrubbing detergent soap after it had scratched his face raw and started burning. He squinted through his lashes again, making a thick lather to attack his hair.
He was rinsing out his hair when he heard, “Strip, son. Get those clothes off before it burns your tender bits crispy.” Nodding his head and squinting out of eyes that were only slightly more open than before, he toed off his soaked boots and then stripped off his shirt, socks, and jeans, standing naked in the water now.
After an additional ten minutes or so of lathering and rinsing his whole body several times, he realized the water was—and had been all along—colder than fuck, and he stepped out of the shower, turning off the faucet. Goddamn, his balls were trying to crawl up into his belly; he was that cold. He hoped he’d gotten all the dip off, but the smell was up in his nose so badly that he wouldn’t be able to tell by smell.
Covered in goose bumps, his eyes tearing, he looked at the man who had helped him. “Never had anyone fall all the way
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