Shit Kickin.....

 I’m at my Mom’s for a few days, we’re all talked out, I’ve seen the rest of my family, thankfully I got a phone call from Cowboy Marv, “Heard you were in town, let’s take the horses and go for a sunset ride in the hills by Fort Lincoln.”


Marv picked me up in his black, Chevy ¾ ton, 4x4 pickup. The two-horse trailer is hooked up. Rebby and Flash are in the back and we’re off to cross the wide Missouri.


We had a nice ride through the hills and breaks, watched the sunset in the west from the top of a butte overlooking Fort Lincoln. Of course, we drank a few beers from the saddle bags too. A historical note, Fort Abraham Lincoln was Custer’s command and he rode off through these very same hills on his way to the Little Big Horn.


Cowboy Marv has a little piece of land south of Bismarck, big enough for the two quarter horses, it’s got a pond, a small barn. We drop the horses off, curry them and give them some oats.

Marv and I climb back in the Chevy, it’s almost ten o’clock and we haven’t eaten. We hit the drive through at McDowell’s Big Boy. I had a pizza burger, “Flying Style” fries and a diet coke, can’t remember what Cowboy Marv ate. When we were finished, Marv suggested we head for the Dakota Lounge. I thought that was a great idea.


The Dakota is the size of a supermarket and it was packed with “shoppers” on a Thursday night. The live band was kicking out country, country rock and the dance floor was packed, the black jack tables were full and the girls who sell punch cards and other gambling shit were working overtime. Marv fit in, black hat, worn jeans and rough out boots with just a touch of horse shit on them. His shirt is a ragged plaid cowboy model, missing a few pearl buttons over a black t-shirt

I’m wearing pressed 501s, shiny, black lizard Tony Lama boots and a Red Sox long sleeved T, no hat. I’d scraped the horse turd crumbs off my shiny boots out at the barn. Marv and I are squeezed in at the bar drinking beer, 

Marv is hammering Bud, I’m drinking Tecate. We ordered up two shots of Jack Daniels, we’d just knocked them back when a woman pushes her way in between us, she yelled at the bartender, “I need two shots of Cuervo Gold, goddammit!” She’s loud, so loud, the bartender’s head snaps and she got her tequila immediately. She drank them both, turned to me,, “My so-called friends are fucking assholes.” She grabs Marv’s Bud, “You don’t mind if I have a taste do you?” She pounds the can. Cowboy Marv suggests another round, she gets another Cuervo and a Bud. “Fuck my friends, the bitches. They wanted to leave and I wanted to stay, so fuck them, know what I mean?”


Cowboy Marv tilts his hat back, smiles and they begin to engage with each other. Her back is to me and I notice that her skirt is short, so short it barely covers her ample ass, she has on fish net hose and red high heels. When she turns around, looks me in the eye, “You’re not from here are you?” She doesn’t wait for an answer and turned back to Marv. I notice that her large boobs are not harnessed. She and Marv order another round, I pass since I’ve got a half a beer left. A guy walks by, looks at my shirt, “Fuck the Red Sox, go Twins!”


I wander around the Dakota, watch the blackjack players for a while, buy ten bucks worth of pull tabs and win 4 back. The band is playing a credible version of Merle Haggard’s “Swinging Doors”.


The Dakota is clearing out, it’s midnight and Friday is a workday. Marv has graciously offered to give Cheryl a ride home, as we leave, the band is playing Buck’s “Together Again”. 

Cheryl is Cowboy Marv’s kind of girl, she's. hanging on Marv as we cross the parking lot, he helps her up into the cab of the truck. Marv’s Chevy is a single cab, bench seat and it’s a stick shift. We get settled, Marv behind the wheel with his hat pulled down again, Cheryl is in the middle straddling the gear shift and I’m riding shot gun. Cheryl, now in charge of the radio, cranks up Y93 enough to rattle the speakers. The station is playing “Back in Black” by ACDC. Cheryl is dancing in place. Marv is keeping time on the steering wheel. Me? I’m just fucking amazed.


Marv stops at a traffic signal, when it turns green, as he shifts from first to second gear, he says, “Fuck me!” Cheryl seems to perk up at that, then realizes that Marv’s ID bracelet is caught in her fishnet stocking. 
Marv can’t shift the truck into 3^rd, so Cheryl does the shifting. Marv’s right arm is attached to Cheryl’s left thigh, trying get the bracelet loose, she’s making it worse. Marv is working the pedals and steering the big Chevy, Cheryl is doing the shifting.


More stop signs and stop lights, Cheryl is pissed, “Fuck this shit!”, she pulled up her skirt, unhooked the fishnet from her garter, kicks off her red shoe and unrolled the stocking. She put on quite a show. Marv wraps her fishnet around his right wrist and starts shifting for himself.


Cowboy Marv and the lovely Cheryl drop me off at my mother’s place. Mom is still up, reading and listening to Barbra Streisand records, 

“Did you have fun?” Mom says.


‘It was just super, Mom.”


“Anything interesting happen?”


“Naw, not really.”


“Did you see anyone else you know?”


“Nope, just some guy who hates the Red Sox.”


The next morning, Cowboy Marv called. I ask. "How did it go?


‘Well I took her home, the goddamn door is chained from the inside, Cheryl beat on it until her mother opened it. The woman grabbed Cheryl by the arm and dragged her inside. You won’t believe what she said to me.”


“What did she say?”


“That I ought to be ashamed of myself for taking her daughter out and getting her drunk.”


“She say anything else?”


“Only that I should get my cowboy ass back to Kist Livestock or wherever I came from and if she ever saw me around her daughter again, she’d call the cops.”


“Jesus.”


“Jesus is right, man. Her old lady was pissed."


“Probably should stay clear of old Cheryl Marv.”


“Hell, I don’t know, I kind of like her.”