Country Boys

COUNTRY BOYS

*Timmy's View*
I was outside doing my chores when I heard my Uncle Jimmy yelling out front. He never said anything about expecting company so I couldn't help but stop to take a look. I ran over to the side of the house and peered around the corner to catch the end of an argument.
"Then yuh need to get the hell outta here yuh understan me?! Damn assholes comen onto muh property." He shouted. The man he was yelling at appeared to be in his late forties; he wore glasses and had a couple of papers in his hands. He didn't seem to want to put the effort into whatever he was doing with my uncle getting in his face, so he walked away and continued up the rode.
I could tell my uncle was really ticked off because he had the habit of stroking his hair back with his hand while mumbling curses whenever he was extremely mad. I wasn't planning on getting caught eaves-dropping but he spotted me when he turned around.
"God dammit boy! Did I tell you, you could leave your chores? I don't think so, now git back to em you little shit!"
There's one thing I learned from experience while living here, and that's not to argue with Uncle Jimmy. So instead I sucked in my pride, like I did every time, and turned around and walked away.

I hated it here. My uncle didn’t care for me. I just worked my ass off doing chores with nothing but a shirt and a dirty pair of jeans. I was never popular in school because of that too. Some people said that I smelled like I woke up in a pile of crap. But what do they know? School days or no, I'm up early helping to fix broken tractors, stacking the bails of hey in the barn, feeding the animals, cleaning the animals, or forking the shit from the stalls. That's the only real reason why my uncle took me in, he saw me as a benefit to his farm; I’d do all the heavy work while he’d sit on his lazy ass drinking beer.

I made it back up to the barn where I continued to move the bails of hey into the back of the pick-up truck. All the while I couldn't help but think of my situation. I practically always thought about the past when doing my chores, especially since there wasn't much else to think about.

When I was three my Mom and Dad were killed. We didn't have much of a family, the few members we had were states away from here, so all that was left was my Aunt and Uncle. My Uncles’ a bastard but my Aunt was one of the nicest people I’ve seen yet. I remember when I was eight years old I asked her about my parents. At that time I had no idea how they died. She said while holding me in her lap. "Your parents loved you very much Timmy. Never forget that. Why, you were a dream come true for your Mother, and a great source of pride for your Father. He always wanted a boy. They used to live on a farm not too far from here and boy did they love horses. I mean they absolutely loved horses, they raised over twenty of them in the pasture and they were so healthy and gorgeous. They took such good care of them.
However, your parents had a belief that horses could and should be loved just as much as people. So they spent lots of time with them, a little too much time if you ask me. Some nights they would even sleep out in the pasture with the horses. So in turn, the horses loved them a lot as well. In fact, they loved them to death."

So for about three years I went on believing that my parents weren't killed, but taken away by the love of the horses. I was young at the time and didn't understand death, so my Aunt was only trying to protect me by being vague about their passing.
After three years went by, my Aunt died from lung cancer and I was left in the care of my Uncle, who as I already stated couldn't care less about me. In fact he's the one who told me the truth about what happened to my parents. I remember exactly what he had said.
"That's all horse-shit you got right there. That ain't what happened to yuh parents son. Your parents were fools! They thought that horses should be treated equal to people so them stupid sons of bitches slept outside with em out in the pasture. And you know what? They got trampled! Ha ha! Horses are stupid and they don't know what the difference is, they ran and walked all over yur parent’s thinken they was dirt!"
I was eleven at the time and all I can remember was him instilling a fear in me along with a hate. I had a fear for horses, and a hate for him.
However, he wouldn't tolerate either one. I always had to do what he said, and sometimes he'd even make me sleep in the barn, claiming that only a faggot would be afraid of horses.
I spent many nights awake, angry, and scared. But there was nothing I could do when up against my uncle.

I hadn't realized it, but while trapped in thought I ended up moving a little slower. The sun was already setting, and if I took any longer I’d never hear the end of it. So I rushed to finish and ran inside to find him passed out on the couch anyway.
I grabbed myself a sandwich and when I was done I went to take a shower, brush my teeth, and go to bed.
I laid there for a minute. 'I never did find out what that guy wanted,' I thought. 'Oh well, if he made my uncle that mad, it couldn't have been anything good.'