Adventures at Top Tractor Academy

By Ricky Adlam

A group of misfit teenagers almost wreck their parents store, warehouse, farm, and so forth, then get sent to Top Tractor Academy to learn how to handle tractors and big earth moving equipment. They almost wreck the school equipment at first but later improve and win a local tournament, then become heroes in the end when they save the town from a major fire storm. Bobby-Jo, the only female enrolled, goes through a change of life from milk farm girl to moderm teenager while acting as the key compeditor to winning the academy tornament for her class, which is full of boys. This story has humor and mild romance woven into a fun adventure. A peak into future times containing tractor jets adds to this comedic fun for young and old readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ricky Adlam
• Release date: Aug 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393388340

Ricky Adlam

Ricky Adlam has a Bachelor of Science in Mechanical & Industrial Engineering with a background in Electrical Technology. He has working experience as a News Anchorman, a Weatherman, a TV Comedy Writer, a Senior Aerospace Project Engineer, an Aerospace Systems Engineer, an Industrial Engineer, and a Senior Nuclear Project Engineer. He has also performed Big Band songs at numerous Mayfair Music Festivals. He played rhythm guitar as a member of the Wabash Country Band. Ricky likes to write music, screenplays, and comedy novels. He usually writes a screenplay first and then uses it to create his finished novel. Ricky’s comedy-oriented writing makes his stories fun, fast reading books, which are available as e-books and in hardcover. Adventures at Top Tractor Academy was his first creation. Following that was 12 Monkeys on a Bus, then Twitzy & Ditzy, then SOS Cruise-Lines, then House Shoes, then The Tall Man, then Return of Pitt the Pirate, then Pet Town, then STAR 999 Down, and then Coronavirus-6WKS 2D DAY. Each of his stories are unique creations on their own with no follow-up volumes. Ricky Adlam hopes that these popular unique books continue to be read by young and old adults. It should be mentioned, that as a youth, Ricky Adlam was always outside playing Baseball, Football, Basketball, Stickball, Handball and Hockey. He intends to write comedy action sports stories in the future to be placed in school and local libraries throughout the United States.

Book preview

.

.

.

.

Adventures at

Top Tractor Academy

––––––––

By

––––––––

Ricky Adlam

INDEX SHEET - TOP TRACTOR

––––––––

Intro Chapter: Intro Scenes (11 Scenarios) /Page 05   

Chapter One:  The Utter Bests /  Page 59

Chapter Two:  Money Trouble /  Page 70

Chapter Three: Dust Crop Adventures /  Page 76

Chapter Four: Getting to Class /  Page 84

Chapter Five:  Simulator Lab Again /  Page 92

Chapter Six:   Hockney’s Revenge /  Page 99

Chapter Seven:  The Big Cleanup /  Page 102

Chapter Eight:  Real Time Lab /  Page 113

Chapter Nine: One Good Fat Meal /  Page 135

Chapter Ten:   Topman’s Revenge /  Page 145

Chapter Eleven:  Mid-Term Break /  Page 157

Chapter Twelve:  The Rescue /  Page 177

Chapter Thirteen:  The Tournament /  Page 191   

Chapter Fourteen:  Hot Fires & Heavy Rains / Pg 229

Chapter Fifteen:  Memories of Mitch /  Page 237

Chapter Sixteen:  The End of Top Tractor /  Page 245 

Chapter Seventeen:  Final Commencement /  Page 249

Chapter Eighteen:  The Reunion /  Page 260

Chapter Nineteen:  My Little Girl /  Page 267

The End: /  Page 279 

[Characters List & Author &  Book Photos]

.

Copyright ©1988

All Rights Reserved

PHOTO SHEETS _0005

TOP TRACTOR

––––––––

Introductory Scene:

.

The sun rises.  All is quiet except for a few small-chirping crickets.  A butterfly is seen passing from leaf to leaf.  The early morning mist hovers, dew drops sparkle here and there.  Beams of light pass through the long stems of grass, cutting a hatched pattern.  The sky starts to brighten up until sky-blue has emerged throughout the distant horizon.  Suddenly, thunder erupts, the ground shakes and a gust of smoke belches out into the air.  A gigantic tractor then passes as it plows over the field of grass and brown rich dirt.  At the end of the field a black shiny Limo pulls up.  Out from a cloud of dust, a middle aged, gray haired executive in a green striped suit appears accompanied by a neatly dressed, attractive young businesswoman.  They walk over to the rusty bobbed wire fence and wait for the tractor to approach their corner of the field.

The tractor rides sideways on a hill and tilts, almost toppling over.  The confident driver holds on with one hand, the other holds an empty cup, which is placed under a bottle of pop sticking out of a cup holder.  The liquid pours out from the bottle and just as it fills up the cup, the driver rights up the tractor and takes a sip from his cup. He winks at an Air Force plane streaking high overhead, and then he steers over towards the two waiting strangers across the green grass field.

Click, click A small telephoto, cell phone camera goes off and just as fast it is placed back into the red leather pocketbook from whence it came.

Look at that hulk the slender female remarks in awe. Her male partner casually waves for the orange-red iron monster to come closer to the fence.  The engine is geared down. It runs quieter as it is set in neutral.

Gosh, what do you all want with me here today? The driver shouts down. He decides to turn the big metal horse off so he can hear them better. All goes quiet.

We need your skills as a teacher.  Our instructor recommended you.  He won the state lottery and left in a sudden hurry, says the young lady.

Well who was this guy, Mama?

Chris Abram! Our best instructor.

Chris and I served together in the army.  So, he’s won the lottery.  He always was a lucky guy. And you two are?

This is my Secretary, Maggie-bel Kennedy. I’m the President of the Academy, Top Tractor Academy, states the elderly man.  Would you be interested in passing on your skills?  It may be temporary, but your skills could make it a permanent position later. Next semester you can work full time if you want to stay on, or even part time if that suits your needs. Same pay as Chris.

The young driver pauses, scratches his chin. He looks skyward.  If you give me Chris’s salary, I’ll finish this field and pack up tonight.  He looks directly down and points a glove finger at the well-dressed figures, holding it steady, then a thumbs up.

Great. It’s a deal, says the husky old President as he extends a hand upward.

You got it Mister. The young man slaps it away.  In seconds, thunder once again rings out in the air, followed by smoke fumes as the farm machine moves along on its way across the grassy field.  Both suited bodies turnabout and grin at each other. They strut back to their car. Once at the car, the young lady pats her pocketbook, holding the cell phone photo she took of the muscular farmer, high in the air.

That big man owns this big farm and the horse farm too. He loosens his tie and asks in a whisper, Did you get it girl? 

Yep, it’s all digitally recorded in little Betsy. That’s my new poster boy shot she proudly replies. This will bring them in for sure.

The black limo door slams once, then the other side follows.  The chauffeur spins the limo around, then the elderly man yells out, Sweetie-pie, you’re right. Enlarge it and use it as our new Top Tractor poster, right away.  The silhouetted feminine figure laughs heartily. She flips her long wavy hair backwards with the shake of her head.  The rear seat window closes. The Lincoln Continental shrinks from sight through the hot exhaust filled air.

Several hours pass. From over the young business-woman’s shoulder, we see her pin a large, colored poster onto a country supermarket bulletin board. The poster has the morning sunbeams, the tilted tractor riding along the hillside, the drivers wink, the soda bottle emptying liquid out to an empty cup underneath, and large, superimposed letters that boldly spell out, Top Tractor Wants You!  A curious crowd quickly forms at the bulletin board. The murmur from customers grows into large chatter as the young lady promptly struts out of the food market. She grins with delight.  The people inside the food market shake their heads with approval at the new poster. Soon afterward, hands are heard clapping.

Now that will bring them in fast, she exclaims, exiting through the front electronic doors. Outside, overhead marching music accompanies her. She pops into the passenger seat of a sporty light blue convertible and gives a wink towards the food store.

Pretty crowded place, says a female assistant, sitting in the front driver’s seat.

Well it was lucky to arrive here on the opening day, she replies. The front seat driver gives her a nod, then points ahead.

Mighty cock sure of everything, aren't you? states the assistant, admiring the crowd gathered through the glass front window. He sure makes quite a handsome picture.

As if in a daze, while staring at the next poster to be pinned up somewhere, she mumbles, Yeah, he’s some rooster alright. I might just sit in on his class.  Promptly the driver’s expression changes. She announces, Hold that thought. We’ve got sixty more to go.  The sports car pulls away, burning rubber behind. Tire marks are left on the paved road, like a new tattoo on a biker’s arm.

Intro Scene One:

Well, first blank out any mental pictures in your mind’s eye concerning the title of this book, then insert the images of each student who attends the academy. The following pages will reveal the reasons why these new students arrived at the prestigious Top Tractor Academy.  This story begins out in the countryside, where a sports car is heard shifting gears in the far distance as it races madly through the winding roadside.  Traveling just as fast right behind it, as if trying to pass bye, is an old, beat up, mid-size U-Haul truck.  After several twists and turns, the red sports car makes a hook around some bushes. It suddenly slides along a dirt entrance way. The driver slams on the brakes, skidding uncontrolled through a rotted, white picket gate to within inches of the back door of an old shabby farmhouse. Next, the rusty U-Haul truck arrives right behind. It also skids, then veers away, crashing into an old stone, front yard water well.  Blue water squirts upward from out of the truck radiator. Near-by, a red faded, wooden barn door falls away to the ground and shatters into pieces. Numerous holes appear in both the roof of the old farmhouse, the barn roof and rotted, shabby barn walls. Paint hasn’t been re-applied in years.

Out pops the body of the reckless, teenage truck driver. He freezes in place as he observes the leaking radiator. Next, he peers down into the well.  He takes a deep breath, then comments to his Grandmother, Is that the bathtub or the sink? She just stares coldly back at him from her car, waiting for her mind to catch up with what her eyes had just seen.

After several moments of silence, hot-rod Grandmother carefully exits her bright red hot-rod auto. She tugs hard and pulls off her striped driving helmet, then wobbles in small steps up to her dumb looking, long haired grandson.  Suddenly she reaches out, grabs the boy by the ear and shouts into it, Billy-Bob your truck is tinkling into our water supply.  Pull or push it back into the barn and don’t scare the half-starved animals. Do you want to poison us?  What about the animals? Those chickens look near death, as it is. You don’t have to scares’ them more.  Now, now get! You’re as dumb as your goofball Dad was alright.  God, save the Queen and roses to the Leprechauns. The old girl lifts her right leg and shakes it twice, then farts twice out loud. She briefly places a hand over her mouth, then stretches. Her hand yanks the boy’s ear.

Billy-Bob Engel yells out in pain. She releases her hold on him.  He flinches upward, then slides into the front seat of the smoking vehicle. With a loud crank, the old, rusted truck backs up uncontrollably.  In seconds, the dented mass is pounding against the red barn doors.  Grandma curses under her breath at Sadie and Uncle Ralph for leaving her this rotting farm mess. She crosses her heart while stumbling her way up the rotted rear porch steps.

Poor excuse for a farm, she screams in angry disgust, shaking her fist repeatedly.

Impatiently the old gal kicks the door hard. It drops down off the hinges, then the large front window falls away into the dead, dried bushes along with several collapsing flower boxes.  Just as the aged, Grandmother’s eyes light up from this unbelievable occurrence, a loud noise echoes, penetrating skyward.  She spins about facing the old rotted barn.  Gray smoke billows outward, shooting into the air. More smoke pores through numerous peepholes and cracks in the rotted, red bard wall.  A black puff cloud follows, blowing outward from the open bard doorway.

Billy-Bob yells out loudly, Grandma? Grandma-a-a-ah! 

Oh, No! shouts Grandma. Her eyes widen in fear.

Just then, a new doorway is created though the side barn wall. Billy comes into view riding on an old gray tractor, smashing through the wall, smashing into a tall silo, collapsing the forty-foot tower to the ground, releasing a black cloud of mold and green dust everywhere.  He turns left, moving onward over the dry, brown front yard turf through the side corral fence and slams into the stone street mailbox. The tractor bounces off the cemented structure, ripping away the mailbox, as it rises high into the smoke-filled air, looking like a crazed wild stallion. Next, the runaway machine heads back through the wire protected chicken house, creating havoc hell amongst four dozen scrawny looking, feathered birds. Stop it.  Stop it right now!  Grandma yells as she follows the roving, howling metal dinosaur about the property, headed on an uncontrolled, insane journey of destruction.

I can’t stop this giant roller skate Grandma.  I don’t know how, cries Billy-Bob.

Then jump!  Grandma yells out with hands cupped around her tiny mouth.

Billy and the machine spin around in circles, finally halting by crashing into the back end of Grandmas shiny red sports car. The tractor pushes it over and up through the rear kitchen wall, where it silently rests upside down in the center of the dirty dilapidated country kitchen.  Quiet follows as the upended car tires rotate to a stop. Old white-haired Grandma bends her head down into her chest. She cries dry tears into her thin, shaking, white wrinkled, cupped hands.  A minute passes and the gray-haired old lady gets her shattered mind back. She takes several deep breaths, then lets it out as she peers over her spectacles at her accident-prone Grandson in shock.

Guess it’s out of gas, Grandma——a, comments Billy. The old lady enters the shattered house. She turns about, sizing up the full damage.

Just look at my kitchen, cries Grandma Engel in a tear graveled voice.  What do you have to say?  She sternly asks, waiving her excited arms up in the air. Granny sees her body in a dirty full view mirror attached too the basement door. She gradually looks down at her newly acquired, pretty dress. The old lady’s bright blue, paisley outfit has turned gray and black soot spots now appear everywhere, both front and back. Grandma spits on the floor, then swings her right hand to her forehead.  The once healthy, aged lady leans her arm on her back. She kicks at a splintered, half erect, rotting French wooden kitchen chair. Granny shakes a fist, then decides to bite her hand hard for several seconds instead.  Suddenly, her wristwatch chimes twelve times which again brings her shocked mind back to reality. Guess what? she asks her Grandson.

Billy-Bob scratches his chin and jumps off the hot, smoking machine.  Suddenly, he spouts a wide grin, Yah mean it’s lunchtime? He licks his lips and wiggles his eyebrows as he picks at his dried, soot covered nose.  Grandma starts to give him the finger-sign but crosses her heart instead. She bites her lower lip and stares hard at the boy.  The once, pale white face now turns beet red in anger. Her eyes tear profusely as she struggles to keep her composure.

No! Grandma screams, pulling a rusted mailbox off the front hood of the smoking tractor. Just at that moment, God intervenes when a brown mail pamphlet falls to the floor at her feet.  The old gal’s eyes nearly pop out when she grabs it in mid-air and holds it up to the sunlight piercing through the kitchen roof.  In a single blink of an eye, her tears halt and instantly evaporate. A wide smile spreads across the gray-haired Granny’s face.  Additionally, sunbeams gradually penetrate through tiny holes in the roof. Then the farmhouse kitchen dust cloud fades away. Tiny light beams dance magically off the Grandmothers wrinkled forehead giving her the appearance of a heavenly angel.  Her head cocks upward, towards heaven followed by prayer hands which no longer shake about in anger. She looks at Billy-Bob and sighs, hugging the pamphlet close to her chest.

God has again provided.  Grandma Engel crosses her spirit filled heart, twice.

Is it lunch yet? Billy-Bob asks loudly, rubbing his stomach with one hand, while tucking his ripped shirttails into his black, spot-covered jeans with the other. He then rigorously picks at his nose again with his black soot covered finger. His nostril turns black.

No!  Grandma holds up the small poster ad.  It’s TOP TRACTOR.  Yep, TOP TRACTOR for you, Billy-Bob old boy! - - - You can go pick your nose there. She turns away, looks skyward and issues a happy wink up to heaven.

Billy steps forward to take a close look at Academy poster. His foot slips, catching the table leg, causing his body to crash backward through the open basement door.  He slides down the steps into the darkness, out of sight, yelling, Grandma, Grandma-a-a-ah! as he vanishes out of sight. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Dust bellows up from the darkness.  Metal and glass items are then heard falling and crashing down below. This continues, repeatedly, sounding like popcorn exploding on a campfire fry pan. After the basement noises cease, Grandma Engel walks over to the doorway and yells down, TOP TRACTOR for you Billie, TOP TRACTOR today. Silence follows.  Immediately, she wastes no time picking up a small, half-rotted melon rolling across the floor from out of nowhere, then tosses it down the steps. Here’s your lunch boy. Boom!  Promptly, a cell phone is removed from her dress pocket. The elderly woman wastes no time in dialing up Top Tractor Academy. Connect me to admissions.  - - - I’ll wait as long as it takes, mam.

Owe! That hit me in the head. Oh boy! Grandma, I can’t see. I can’t see. Billy-Bob moans loudly from the darkness below, which only makes Grandma smile and chuckle. The sweet old lady glances down the steps, then looks up to heaven again and utters a few more, joyous, angelic words to God, Bulls-eye Lord! Bull’s-eye!

Intro Scene Two:

Tick-Tick-Tick, cat-ta-cata-push!  Out pops a reel of computer paper from a printer.  The slim-figured girl looks up over her thick rimmed, reading glasses, smiles and shouts, Dad, look what I’ve made. She lifts the ends of her long red, braided hair and clump stuffs the right, then the left, deep into her mouth.  Her eyes bulge as her cheeks puff out.  Then the milk farm girl slurps and gnaws on the hair ends like taffy candy.  Spit drips down out of the curved corners of her mouth.  She turns towards the doorway waits to see her loving, kind, daddy arrive.

Dad enters briskly, buttoning his work overalls. He looks at the star dotted printout of a cow, a barn and a tractor. He adjusts his sunglasses over his nose.  Bobbie-Jo Smith, I think you’re old enough today, girl.  No more of these cartoon computer printouts.  No more computer games.  You start working along with the family, as of today.  He frowns at the printout, then looks down at his immature teenage daughter.  His face grows stern. His eyebrows rise and fall.

Milking?  Dad-die-do. Bobbie-Jo asks in a whisper.

No, you’re going to handle Big Bruce today.  Dad peers over the tops of his dark spectacles. He thumb-stretches the upper side of his red farmer suspenders.  Dad leans over and pauses to clear his throat, then gives a calm, but serious nod towards his daughter.  Outside young lady.  You should know the routine baby-girl. You’ve been watching it all these years.

A look of disgust covers Bobby-Jo’s face.  Mom enters the family den holding up a small basket of dirty wash. Today, milk farm mom is wearing a flowery white dress. She adds her own comments, Do you think that you have the time to train our girl, after all you’re always so busy Daddy-bear?  She’s such a cute little puppy. Can’t it wait just one week more? Mom smiles.

Bobbie-Jo peeks over her big black rimmed, metal glasses and grins giddily.  The freckled faced, teenage red head then decides to talk. What could go wrong?  It’s so simple, Ma-aa-aa-ah!  Mother walks closer, kisses her daughter’s forehead, sighs, then promptly leaves the room. Dad bends over, but to pull the computer plug. Bobbie-Jo’s grin disappears. She holds her breath. A dead serious stare forms, directly aimed at the screen monitor as it dies away from white to a faded black. The teenage girl’s red head tilts down. Her freckled, quivering chin sinks into her chest. OK Dad. I’ll give it a try, she mumbles, half crying. Both pink tails sway about.

Twenty minutes later, outside in the backyard area, a heard of twenty colorful milk cows suddenly stampede out of a huge, white, metal walled, barn doorway. Smoke pours out of the barn entrance. Meanwhile, on the other side of the house, Nellie Smith merrily hangs the wet laundry out to dry. Mother jumps up, startled after a loud boom-boom-boom noise breaks the countryside silence. Inside the rear kitchen, Dad looks concerned, out the back door. Quickly, he drops his cell phone and dashes up the dirt road that leads to the cow barn. Once inside, he stops dead in his track as he observes his family tractor traveling back and forth, smashing into the left wall, then right barn wall, again, again, again and again. Both walls are caved in from the big machine. Each is badly dented.  He covers both ears attempting to muffle the deadening sound. The fuming tractor finally stalls out and turns quiet.  Dads strong arms fall back down to his side.  After glancing directly at his daughter, he parades around the barn and closely inspects the accidental damage to the once pristine, barn walls.

Where’s Ned?  Dad loudly questions Bobbie-Jo. Where’s Uncle Ned? he repeats.

Search me, Dad.  I’m in a rut here. This stupid tractor is crappy! Crappy Pooh, cries Bobbie-Jo.  The soot covered farm girl wipes her left eyebrow with her braids. Then she rubs her forehead with her smoke stained, plaid shirt sleeve.  Bobbie-Jo stands upright and her long thin arms begin to flop about her sides acting like an over excited wild goose. This is not my fault. No, no, no, no! she announces to the whole world.

Mr. Smith frowns after he spots old Ned’s body lying face down in the entrance way. Brown dirt covers over his back along with dark black cow hoof prints noticeably etched over the center of his back.  Poor Uncle Ned’s torso lies right center of the entrance way where the startled, stampeded milk-cows exited in a panic.  Mr. Smith’s face turns roster red, then his jaw drops down.  He turns about and faces Bobby-Jo. However, before he can muster another heated word, he spots something else that causes him to freeze in place. A paper sticks up from Uncles Ned’s back pocket. Promptly, daddy Smith bends over and removes the rolled-up pamphlet. It’s an advertisement he has never seen before. Angry Dad opens it and reads it out loud. Top Tractor Wants You Today. Suddenly, upset farmer Dad smiles. Briefly, he mumbles to himself, then talks toward his red head daughter’s face, pointing a finger directly at her head. Bobbie-Joe, you’re going right back to school. You hear me?

Computer school Dad?  Bobbie asks, followed with a relieved look of excitement.

No. TOP TRACTOR! It’s TOP TRACTOR for you. Maybe they can teach you good.

Bobby-Jo’s face looks confusion and disappointed.  Then, without warning, the damaged tractor engine begins to smoke.  Mr. Smith frowns once more as he looks up to heaven.  He raises both hands over his forehead and prays skyward, I hope the insurance covers this, Lord.  My new tractor will never run the same again. Lord have mercy on me and the wife!  Dad pauses to take a deep breath. God, I’ve been a good father. Why did you have to send me a teenage girl like this one?  Why me?  Why did you do this to me God?  I love you.  I love you God. - - - Don’t you love me?  What next, God?  What’s going to happen next? Farmer Smith shakes his head.

Just then, Bobbie-Jo hick-ups twice and her hand flips upward. She jumps off the tractor, trips over the silo release and flops on her ass, landing right next to Daddy Smith. She stares up into his eyes. Just like a sudden, unexpected, heavy rain, a ton of golden feed grain is released. It

slides down the outside chute above the barn doorway, covering the figure of Mother Nellie Smith. It’s an unexpected heavy downpour. It seems that Mother Smith had come over to check out the loud disturbance from inside the barn. She simply stood there quietly, waiting to talk. Poor, dear Mom’s head and outstretched hands are quickly covered over with dried, golden feed grain. Once the down poor stops, the top of her daisy covered, white sunbonnet is all that is visible, to the naked eye. Mr. Smith stands frozen in shock.  He looks bout for Nellie’s hands.

Harold, I can’t see you Harold? cries mom from under the mountain pile of dry feed. Bobbie just sits on her ass, looking up at her fully confused father. The teenager raises her shoulders up, then displays a forgiving expression. Her thick, black glasses slide down to the end of her nose.  Bobbie-Jo’s dangling braids and freckled cheeks create a look of pure, dumb innocence.  This, however, does not quench her father’s red-faced fury.  Again, he points a finger down at his only child and holds it steady. Bobbie-Jo nervously stuffs both braids of hair into her mouth. Her cabbage-patch doll cheeks puff out, looking like a female patriarch Godfather. Bobbie-Jo sits there pouting, cheeks bulging out like a cabbage-patch doll.  Dad turns his head away towards the grain pile. He grits hits teeth and snarls as he watches mothers outstretched limbs slowly rise upward, from out of the mountain of feed grain like a zombie exiting a grave.

Top Tractor? Bobby-Jo asks her Dad quietly.

Top Tractor for sure little girl, shouts Daddy Smith sternly in reply. Then he rushes over to help his wife dig out from under and return to the living.

.

.

Intro Scene Three:

A neatly dressed salesman in a three-piece suit dusts off his attire. He strolls up to a large glass, showplace window. He removes his handkerchief and polishes a small part of the huge plate glass.  He tucks the silky material away. A moment later, a white-collar employee approaches him donning a pencil over each ear, holding a clipboard, looking excited.

Mr. Bodak?  Mr. Bodak, doesn’t your son start today?

Yes Preston, he takes over the family tradition as the third generation to run ‘Bodak and Son Tractors’.  Today I am a very proud Afro-American Dad. Yes, a very proud man indeed Preston.  Yes indeed.

He’s late again. - - - Isn’t he? asks the head salesman as he straightens his bright blue, bow tie hanging loosely about his wrinkle free, white nylon shirt.

Well, I told him to take the tractor and that will slow the trip from home about twenty minutes. He’ll be here soon. Preston, go get me some of that terrific coffee. Wait a minute. You know, he’s my youngest son, the smart one. His other older brother, big nose Arnold, is still out of work. I think that he ought to join the service. My youngest son has always been a handsome, muscular lad. He even has a perfect Caucasian nose like my dad. I guess his brother’s looks must come from her side of the family.  I’m counting on Bruce to show up her three mental misfits, the ones from my wife’s first marriage. Thank God I rarely see them.  Husband number one got to keep them. You know, he was a manure salesman. He died last year from a bee sting, of all things. His three boys wash dishes for a living. That’s about it. No college or vocational training like your boy has.  She says her marriage stunk bad right from the beginning. - - - I’d say. Now how about that coffee?  My morning tongue just yearns nice hot coffee, Preston.  Mister Bodak stretches his arms up and outward a few times, then stands at ease, grinning away.

Preston takes a few steps and turns to say, I feel the same way, boss. Preston leaves.

Bodak looks at his pocket watch and lifts it to his ear. He walks slowly back into his dealership office, where he sinks down in a soft, brown