Grand Junction, CO

in flashfiction •  7 years ago 

Grand Junction, CO

So there’s a train, a car, and another train coming the other direction, and out in the field there’s a rancher—watching everything, unassumingly, chewing on some grass, taking a break from the hay—who raises his head and looks to the sky because there’s a storm blowing in from the southwest and the sky is beginning to lose its sky-blue color, so he says to Emilio, who’s still bailing hay, “Looks like rain,” but Emilio doesn’t speak English, well, he knows a little, it’s just understanding certain vernaculars is difficult, even though he tries his best, practicing at night with North American action movies such as Lethal Weapon 1 & 3 and sometimes 4, or sitcoms like Two and a Half Men, or at least he did like the latter before they switched that one guy with that other guy, and though Emilio kind of likes the new guy, it’s just not the same, you know, and Emilio is thinking all of this before he nearly jumps out of his skin when out of the blue this roar, this cacophony of horns, like a multi-headed monster, like a crack of electricity mixed with metal rubbing metal, made the ground shake and the grass shudder, and subsequent to its wake the rancher struck to action, running through the field, calling Emilio to follow, but Emilio is still a little stunned, shaking his head, saying to himself, as if Detective Martin Briggs played by a young Mel Gibson is there to console him, “Tengo demasiados años para este mierda de toro” cc: {I have too many years for this shit of bull}.

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