05-02-2018, 02:16 PM
The acrylic domes of Jackson Hole glistened in the sun away across the grassy plain to the west. I wondered how they kept them so clean, way out here in the middle of nowhere. A rusty cargo shuttle hung motionless in the sky, awaiting permission to land.
My horse was telling me about a theory of his concerning why the grass in Wyoming was sweeter than the grass in Kansas. I feigned interest, but I wished I had an apple to shove in his mouth to shut him up.
As we drew nearer to Jackson Hole, we came across a snake oil peddler's wagon painted in bold letters touting the wonders of Cream of Caulk's wondrous cure-all. I looked at my horse, and he at me. We both shrugged.
"Giddy up," he said.
My horse was telling me about a theory of his concerning why the grass in Wyoming was sweeter than the grass in Kansas. I feigned interest, but I wished I had an apple to shove in his mouth to shut him up.
As we drew nearer to Jackson Hole, we came across a snake oil peddler's wagon painted in bold letters touting the wonders of Cream of Caulk's wondrous cure-all. I looked at my horse, and he at me. We both shrugged.
"Giddy up," he said.
