Sikh Hotel Girl

It was hotter than he had ever imagined. This was the year that he decided to see if the old way of farming would be better than what he had been doing. It actually started as a joke at the coffee shop one morning. He had the equipment. An old M Farmall along with the saddle cultivator that his grandparents bought when it was new. Forty acres..That wouldn’t be so hard, he could do it without using the new 250 horse tractor with comfort control seating, stereo and air conditioning. He wished there was more of a breeze today as the sun beat down on the black rubber coating of the steering wheel, heating it to a near melting point and covering his leather gloves with a sooty black powder. Nearing the end of the row, he hit the trip, bringing the shinny cultivator shoes out of the ground, yanking hard on the steering wheel and swinging the ends around careful not to wind up taking out 10 rods of fencing in the process. He lined up and continued down the rows, looking up once to see her. When the danger was past, Goofy and Harmony and Miss Krystal checked my welfare. I had a bloody nose (Goofy kept licking it) but otherwise seemed okay. A little headache. I managed to hit the floor correctly and didn't bang my head—thank you Sergeant Saunders for those judo classes. Other than that bit of battery, the only confrontations were verbal.At another venue Miss Krystal had me explain why I was dominating Harmony. I used Goofy as an example. Harmony isn't a dog, but I respect dogs and I respect humans. I lend a sense of security and purpose to Goofy. Then I began praising my friend Goofy as a teacher, a companion—and a protector."Goofy, heel!" I commanded. The Doberman emerged from the edge of the stage to sit on my left side. I explained to the audience that the 'heel' command was complicated as I rubbed Goofy's neck, shoulders and head—when I moved, Goofy would maintain position. When I stopped, he'd stop and sit next to me, waiting for my next command. He would keep doing.
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