/bootleg/ Twilit Starsky 2: Farmer's Boogaloo


                                            >"Alright, Mr. A. We got water?"

                                            "Check."

                                            >"Got grub?"

                                            "Check. And aren't we going to get grub?"

                                            >"Yeah but... cooked grub is better. Got gas?"

                                            "Yup, full tank."

                                            >"Haa... Mr. A's got gas."

                                            >You cap off the checklist with a mocking laugh

                                            >Today's the day

                                            >Finally

                                            >Starsky's leading you to that farm she mentioned a while back

                                            >For all the talk of gift baskets and helping out, it has amounted to her and you spending weeks just watching TV and "totally vegging out"

                                            >Her goofy vibes have been rubbing off on you

                                            >Enough that spending time in the living room no longer feels like a violation

                                            >You still default to the basement

                                            >But if she's in the living room, you'll stick to there

                                            >She is...

                                            >Better

                                            >You think

                                            >When it comes to random talking time, she has a thousand stories to tell about her good ol' days with Lizzy

                                            >A lot of them are at least retold through fond tones and smiles, even if most of the stories have a bittersweet element to them

                                            >She's very articulate when she wants to be

                                            >You didn't give her a lot of credit before but she...

                                            >She really is pretty keen

                                            >You couldn't really help it

                                            >She still acts like she's just a leaf on the wind but you know she has a pretty big rudder

                                            "Alright, I'm as ready as I'll ever be. You sure she won't mind us stopping by? It'll be late lunch time if we get there on schedule."

                                            >Starsky shakes her head

                                            >Now that she's gotten used to her shorter mane, she uses every occasion to whip it around

                                            >In effect, it has given her a sort of supermodel vibe at times

                                            >Her tail is still far too long, and still drags on the ground

                                            >She still has some sort of complex about you cutting it so instead you just set it up in a bun

                                            >For the most part, you don't get distracted by her motions or words anymore

                                            >For the most part

                                            >"Naaah, it's fine. Ms. H and I shoot each other emails like every day now. I think she would be pretty happy to see you."

                                            "That sounds promising."

                                            >With the address punched in, you set off on the first leg of your road trip

                                            >To be honest, you could use an outdoor trip

                                            >You've been hopping from job to job since you moved back home

                                            >It has all been a blur not worth remembering

                                            >"Mr. A, you're scowling. Not a fan of crows?"

                                            "Eh?"

                                            >You have no clue what she meant by that

                                            "No, uh. I just hope that I'll make an alright impression. You sure she's ok with just giving stuff away?"

                                            >The way Starsky is side-sitting in the chair, you can't escape her easy eyes

                                            >"Ha, that's funny. Did I ever tell you about my FFA days?"

                                            "Not beyond you were a show pony."

                                            >"Not true, dude! Lizz tried to make me a show pony."

                                            "Oh, right. Silly me."

                                            >"Totally, sill you. Anyway, so Ms. H actually had a farm. Or rather, she was part of a family that had a farm. And they're legit too, not just a few garden pots full of cherry tomatoes and thyme. You wanna know the first rule of farming, Mr. A?"

                                            "Iiiiiiii... don't know. Don't plant where you sleep?"


                                            >"Nah, man, learn to share! Whether it's tools or stuff, sometimes you have too much for yourself. So you share and make friends that way."

                                            "You lost me. You can have too many tools?"

                                            >"Well, you can have backup tools. Like, do you have just enough spoons for yourself or could you afford to let someone else use one?"

                                            >As unusual as her example is, you're learning to roll with her logic

                                            "Sure. But if I don't know you well, I won't give you a spoon?"

                                            >"Yeah, you get it! And how do you get to know me better so you'll give me a spoon?"

                                            "I... ask for a fork?"

                                            >Starsky lets out a mock gasp

                                            >"Mr. A! Asking for a fork from a girl you barely know... you're a fast mover."

                                            >You can't help but feel a little embarrassed

                                            "I... I didn't mean it like that. I'm talking cutlery."

                                            >Her chuckling lets you know that she's at least three steps ahead of you

                                            >"I am too."

                                            >You're lucky you have to keep your eyes on the road or you'd...

                                            >She ignores your underbreath grumbling

                                            >"But really, yeah. It's like that. You build up a neat network through stuff like that. And when it comes to big, strong tools and assisted forking..."

                                            >She lingers on the last syllables

                                            >Your lips widen into a grimace

                                            >You aren't taking the bait

                                            >"Remember Mr. A, pitchforks are essential tools."

                                            >Not taking it

                                            >"Thick poles on those forks too."

                                            >Nope

                                            >"Sometimes they require more than just two hands."

                                            >Oh how you wish you could give her just a single brake check and watch her fly out your windshield

                                            >"And you know hooves don't grab so well..."

                                            "The point, man!"

                                            >Your outburst reeks of desperation

                                            >You can't handle this sort of teasing

                                            >"Ha... my point is pretty obvious, dude. If you have a farm, there's totally no way you'll ever be able to eat everything you make. So you share and trade the excess for other things. Next thing you know, you got a whole lot of stuff going for you. And it means that you can give someone the most important thing, next to air and water. The cool thing? They got trees and bushes too so, like, they aren't even just normal vegetable farmers. They got fruits too."

                                            "...oh. Well I guess that is obvious."

                                            >"Seriously. Sometimes I wonder just how you tie your shoes."

                                            "Well we're going out and it isn't in town so I am wearing my boots. Those don't have laces."

                                            >"See! It's a completely legit thing to wonder."

                                            "Oh whatever, man."

                                            >This mare scrambles your head with such ease you're not sure how you deal with it

                                            >But she does make you smile

                                            >She actually makes you smile a lot

                                            >That sort of weaponized disarming silliness is formidable

                                            "So what's in the care package, anyway?"

                                            >"That's a secret. So much a secret that she didn't tell me anything about it either. But she said to bring back the basket once we're done. So get ready for more trips."

                                            "Not twice a week, I hope. We're burning almost a full tank on this round trip."


                                            >"Nahh, that would be weird. But like, once a month hopefully?"

                                            >Drive to a farm once a month for things?

                                            >Depending on how big the basket is, you could probably spread it out longer than that

                                            >As if she is picking up on your thoughts, she interjects

                                            >"I mean, I wanna see her at least once a month if that's ok with you?"

                                            "Huh? Oh, well..."

                                            >Let's be honest

                                            >You don't do anything but work anyway

                                            >You could stand to get some sun

                                            >And it would make her happy

                                            "Yeah. I'm not complaining, just keeping logistics in mind."

                                            >"Awesome! You're the best, Mr. A."

                                            "Yeah... nah... nah."

                                            >You shrug away the attempted compliment

                                            >You tend to feel the happiest when you aren't thinking

                                            >You've thought that lately, anyway, which can be a bit of a paradox

                                            >"I mean it. And hey, they might even be able to spare you some gas too! They got, like, a gas station only five miles away. Really convenient for getting stuff. Not so much when you gotta hoof it yourself."

                                            >That draws your attention

                                            "You've had to walk five miles for gas?"

                                            >"Me? Nah. But Ms. H did once. So I went with her to help out. They had a spare set of saddlebags so I ended up carrying a few gallons too. It was nice though."

                                            >Sounds to you like she had to walk five miles for gas

                                            >But you'll keep that to yourself

                                            >"It sounds like it's a long distance. Because it's like... five miles, twice. But it's not ten. Because you have the break between and then when you're loaded up that second five feels like ten. You know?"

                                            >You begin to nod

                                            "I have absolutely no clue."

                                            >"It's fun. We should do that one of these days."

                                            "Why not just drive the car to the gas station?"

                                            >"Because it's the journey, man, not the destination. That's the fun thing."

                                            >If she says so

                                            >After the first half hour, you're out of town proper

                                            >Industrial plants and fields take up most of the horizon

                                            >As well as the ever-expansive two-lane road

                                            >It looks pretty nice

                                            >For some reason the sparse number of cars sharing your direction makes you feel like you're in a convoy

                                            >Farmers probably have convoys

                                            >Hell, they probably have a really strong sense of community too

                                            >They probably know everyone in a twenty mile radius, at least on a surface level

                                            >Meanwhile you don't even recognize your own neighbors

                                            >They aren't the people you grew up with

                                            >You certainly haven't been social either

                                            >Only Starsky made an attempt to be around

                                            >And the reasoning for that...

                                            >"Mr. A, did I ever tell you that I kinda wished that I could be a farmer?"

                                            "I don't think so. Aren't you too tech-savvy to work out in the fields and all that?"

                                            >"Nah man, not like... a hard working farmer. But the sort who just has like... a greenhouse. Because if you wanna do food, just have like a barrel or two and grow potatoes."

                                            "You can grow potatoes in a barrel?"

                                            >"Bro, potato barrels are like the coolest things. But I don't mean those."

                                            "Alright, so what do you want to grow in a greenhouse?"

                                            >"Like... garden variety stuff."


                                            >One of these days this mare is going to give you mental whiplash so hard you'll see her point

                                            "O...k. Name a few things."

                                            >"Like spearmint, normal mint, lemongrass, ginger, garlic. Not... the important stuff. But the little things. Ever had a steak before with fresh herbs on it?"

                                            "I haven't. Not outside of that dry rub stuff and other mixes you've had."

                                            >"See? That's why I would do those. Those things smell nice too, you know? They're little things, but they matter. They're like... the details to the big picture. The happy little bushes that bring out the best in the mountain."

                                            "In the mountain or around the mountain?"

                                            >"Well in this case, they're bushes that the mountain eats."

                                            "But if the bushes are the herbs and the steak is the main course... then don't we eat the mountain?"

                                            >"That's silly, Mr. A. Mountains don't eat bushes."

                                            >This repeated  moon logic makes you smirk

                                            "Alright wise guy, what do mountains eat then?"

                                            >"Cave explorers that get lost. Obviously, right?"

                                            >She never doesn't sound amused

                                            "Right... that's rather morbid, isn't it?"

                                            >"Well I mean it's not like it's plucking them out of their homes."

                                            "Yeah because that would be weird."

                                            >"Totally. And you know that weird is weird."

                                            "S'yeah... like, totally."

                                            >You start to adopt her inflections

                                            "Like... shut up, do you ever think of... like the trees that eat the nutrients from the mountain too?"

                                            >Starsky giggles

                                            >"Bro, I TOTALLY think that! And it's true, too! Because-and dig this-the minerals get eaten up by the trees... but then they die and the mountain claims it back. And then other trees slurp them back up. They're like... farmers. But without farmers."

                                            "Woooaaahhh... you like... blew my mind."

                                            >"Legit, Mr. A. It's kinda spooky to think of how well nature gets along without us."

                                            >You let out a loud, long sigh

                                            "Ahhhh Starsky. You're weird. Grab me a bag of those sausage sticks."

                                            >"The bag you drowned in red pepper flakes?"

                                            "You know it."

                                            >"Sure, lemme get them. And... uh. Head's up, they're all yours."

                                            >She crouches down and bites down onto one of the four bags of snack meats you grabbed

                                            >Maybe you got too much variety

                                            >But it was a good excuse to spend nearly twenty bucks per bag

                                            >She lifts up her head, corner of the bag hanging from her lips

                                            >You swipe it and finagle the ziplock seal until you get a stick pushed out and ready for chomping

                                            "Not a fan of hot stuff?"

                                            >"Nah, Mr. A. It ain't like that at all. I can handle some peppering."

                                            "What is it like then?"

                                            >The first stick goes by too fast, so you go for a second

                                            >"I just don't want you to see me panting and drooling before dinnertime."

                                            >You nearly choke on your chunk of flaky beef

                                            >That, in turn, leads to you swerving hard into the oncoming lane

                                            >Thankfully the only other person on the road is a half mile in front of you

                                            >You won't dare say it for fear of smart remark, but maybe you should muzzle her


                                            >The vast majority of the time spent driving takes place on lonesome roads

                                            >You know you were in the country when it got to the point that there's maybe a mailbox every other mile

                                            >"Alright, we're getting pretty close. That tractor over there? The dude who owns it got super miffed one day because he broke a cheap wrench and a bit got stuck. So he said "consarn it rusty varmint!" and let it sit to rust."

                                            >She adopts a heavy southern twang for just those four words

                                            >You slow down enough for her to get up and point to it

                                            >Sure enough it looks like it has been sitting outside for decades

                                            >If not centuries

                                            "Why didn't he sell it?"

                                            >"Iunno. Wrench guys are kinda funny like that."

                                            "I guess so... how much further?"

                                            >"Like, another five minutes? Or miles. You'll recognize it because Ms. H got the barn painted purple."

                                            "That's... an odd color. Why purple?"

                                            >"Because you can see purple pretty easily if everything is covered in white snow."

                                            >Your first response is a heavy sigh

                                            "Alright, so why did she paint it purple instead of the normal color of red?"

                                            >"Oh!"

                                            >Starsky giggles and nods

                                            >"Because... like, I'm purple too."

                                            "See, that I get."

                                            >With that in mind, you creep back up to your normal speed

                                            >Purple barn...

                                            >This Ms. H figure must be a pretty valuable friend

                                            >More valuable than a druggie

                                            >Starsky hasn't been asking if you've seen her

                                            >You're sure she goes out for a walk at least once or twice a day

                                            >And if she saw her, she'd probably tell you

                                            >She seems the sort that's too open to hold secrets like that

                                            >Not that you were counting, but after five minutes of music, you see a purple building on the horizon

                                            >"Dude, check it out! Awesome!"

                                            >Starsky stands up and leans against the dashboard

                                            >"See, I told you! Aw, it looks even better now. Come on, Mr. A, pedal to the metal!"

                                            "Riiight... you got it."

                                            >You increase your speed from sixty to... sixty two

                                            >Cruise control is a glorious thing to have

                                            >Rather than a rocky path, you turn into a neatly flattened dirt... parking lot?

                                            >It doesn't look like a proper entryway to the farm but more the entrance to an orchard

                                            >"$15 per basket, visit the store to pay!"

                                            >So says an old wooden sign

                                            >The colors are vibrant but you can tell that they're starting to wear from the repeated years

                                            >"Aw sweet, the sign is still there too! Come on, Mr. A, let's check it out!"

                                            >You open the door just in time for Starsky to hop on your thighs and bounce off onto the dirt

                                            >And just like that the meticulously made bun of her tail comes undone

                                            >Oh well, at least her mane is managed

                                            >You get out and you can't help but notice that she's making a straight gallop over to a...

                                            >Shed?

                                            >It's too small to be a cabin

                                            >But too big to be a tool shed

                                            >The old style door and windows help keep to you vaguely confused about the purpose of the...

                                            >Let's call it a shack

                                            >"Aw man, I remember when I spent a fall helping out here! We were selling the apples, bags of pre-picked apples, apple butter, apple muffins, jams, jellies."

                                            >Starsky runs around the entire perimeter of the shabby structure

                                            >It looks like it could at least contain around a dozen people

                                            >You peek in through one of the windows and see a little counter area set up with a good dozen shelves

                                            >Definitely a basic storefront but the rustic appearance must be pretty neat for customers

                                            >And cheap to maintain