054. Manure


"Oh God, this is disgusting," Terry Western muttered to himself, wrinkling his nose at the stench.

He hadn't expected it to reek so bad, otherwise he never would have agreed to be the one to take care of it. He had the feeling he'd just been duped by his father.

Holding his nose made the smell a little more bearable as he checked over the car, sporting a nice long gash across the passenger side from its impact with the manure truck.

Terry, though, had missed all the fun of earlier that afternoon. He had been, as usual, in the middle of a lecture from his old man for...something or other. His father had so many rules, Terry had long ago given up trying to keep track of them.

So, this was his punishment, cleaning shit out of a ’47 Ford.

But let it never be said that Terry Western wasn't a problem solver, his father might think he wasn't the full deck, but he'd be wrong.

Heading to the back office, he picked up the telephone dialled.

"D. Jones Manure Hauling," a gruff voice answered after a few rings.

"Hey, Mr. Jones, Terry from Western Auto. I got Biff Tannen's car here -"

"That damn kid," Old Jones cut him off. "You got any idea how long it takes to shovel that much manure? I'll tell you, three days! Three days work wasted by some idiot who can't even drive!"

It hadn't quite happened that way, at least that wasn't how Terry heard it, but he wasn't gonna argue with Jones about it.

"Yeah, Tannen's a moron," he said, instead, rather enjoying it too, not that he'd ever say it to Biff's face. "But I was just lookin' at the manure here and I think it's in pretty good shape."

"You know a lot about manure, son?" Jones asked, challengingly.

My Pa says I talk shit like no-one else, Terry considered saying, but figured Jones wouldn't appreciate the joke. "Not really, sir, but I figured why let it go to waste?"

At the other end of the line, Jones gave a 'hmpf'.

"So, I figure you come over to take a look and if it's still good you can haul it away."

Jones gave a laugh. "You just don't wanna haul shit outta that car do you, boy? Well, not that I blame you, although you get used to the smell."

Terry doubted that was true, and even if it was, he sure as Hell didn't want to have to be elbow deep in manure long enough to find out.

"Well, I guess Crazy Peabody would use it, he'll take anything for those pines of his," Jones remarked, thoughtfully. "But it'll cost ya eighty bucks, I'm not a charity."

Eighty bucks?!! Terry almost exclaimed out loud. That was a Hell of a lot to just shovel shit.

But then...Terry could just charge it to Tannen's account, that guy loved his car, he'd pay it.

"Hey, I hear that," he finally said aloud. "So, when can you stop by?"

He hoped immediately, but Jones disappointed him. "Can't come 'til at least noon tomorrow, got pick up a deliveries to make all morning."

Terry looked over at the Ford, it was a good thirty feet away, but the stench still reached him.

There wasn’t much he could do about it, though.

"Noon tomorrow, sure, I’ll see you then."

Hanging up the phone, Terry had to wonder if he'd ever be able to get the smell out of the workshop.



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