05-02-2018, 05:15 PM
My horse bought a new hover car with the money we made from our last cattle drive in 1905. By then, the teleports were cheap enough that beeves could beamed directly from the Bell stations out west to the big station near the slaughterhouses in Chicago. Our rustic way of life was quickly coming to an end.
He took me for a spin on the red dirt backroads of East Texas. We saw Trix hitchhiking there and picked her up. She was wearing booty shorts, which were all the rage back then.
"Nice ride," she said.
"Thanks," the horse replied. "Nice booty."
Trix giggled. I strapped myself in as he floored it. The car ascended above the treeline and headed toward the blue stratosphere.
He took me for a spin on the red dirt backroads of East Texas. We saw Trix hitchhiking there and picked her up. She was wearing booty shorts, which were all the rage back then.
"Nice ride," she said.
"Thanks," the horse replied. "Nice booty."
Trix giggled. I strapped myself in as he floored it. The car ascended above the treeline and headed toward the blue stratosphere.
