Page 13 of Out on a Limb
It was in slightly better shape than the other buildings on the property, but only because I was the one constantly looking at it and noticing when things went wrong. The paint on the outside was fresh, the windows were all spotless, and the carpets were vacuumed daily. If we wanted people to continue to come here then we had to look like a place worthy of their time, and I did my best to hold up my end of that responsibility.
Which is more than I could say for my grandfather.
I was stomping by the time I hit the break room, aggravation and disappointment twisting my lips down so far it almost hurt.
Could you get a cramp from frowning too hard?
I might be about to find out.
I yanked open the door to the fridge and reached in to grab a few bottles of water.
Then I realized I only had one arm. The other was still occupied by my cock.
I’d been so engrossed in the mess that might be mine based on the laws of familial obligation, that I didn’t realize I was still carrying the rooster.
I looked around.
Setting him down didn’t seem like a good idea. He’d probably run around shitting on everything.
But I also couldn’t carry him and all the water bottles I needed.
A stack of new inventory caught my eye.
I looked at the bird in my arms then back at the stack.
The sizes seemed pretty close.
I went to the top box, pulling out one of the drawstring backpacks stacked inside. “Are you going to bite me if I put you in here?”
The bird tipped his head to one side. Then the other.
It seemed like a no.
I worked one hand into the bag, opening it up. Then I straightened my other hand, using it like a slide to scoot the rooster down and in.
He didn’t freak out, so I carefully pulled the looped rope, cinching it in loosely around his neck, then I scooped him up and laced the ropes over my arms, hooking him onto my back.
This was what my life had come to.
I was wearing a cock in a backpack.
I went back to the fridge and pulled out as many bottles of water as I could carry, lining them down my arms as the chicken watched me over one shoulder. I dropped them into another of the bags before heading back out to my cart, setting the bag of water onto the seat beside me before climbing in and heading back to where Julia, Andrew, and the rest of the crew were working.
Julia stared my way as I pulled up, one hand coming up to shade her eyes. “Why do you have a chicken in a backpack?”
“He’s a rooster.” I jumped out, grabbing the water and passing one her way. “And I couldn’t carry him and the water.”
“Won’t he get hot in there?” Julia cracked her water and tipped some back. “Those bags don’t breathe.”
I peeked over my shoulder at the bird. He looked back at me like she had a point.
I snagged one of the cold waters, reaching over and behind my head to sneak it down into the bag with him. “There.”
Julia’s dark brows came together. “I think you need a girls’ night.”
I needed a lot of things.
I needed to mow my grass.
