Life on the Farm


Chapter 2

Written By: Justin Case

Edited By: Ed


©JCPCo2001 all rights reserved.

Disclaimer: This material contains sexually graphic language. You must know the laws pertaining to viewing this subject matter, and be willing to accept responsibility for all legal ramifications by doing so. This story is about the diversities of young love and life. It primarily deals with the exchange of love between two males. If you find this material offensive, or it is illegal for you to read, leave now. This tale is fiction; any similarity to actual people, places, and events is purely coincidental. The author, his editor, and the publisher accept no responsibility for the actions of the reader.



SoapBox®: Hello to all my faithful, here you are, a holiday treat, I hope you like it. It is the first story I have ever released in block form (several chapters at one time). If you'd like to write me, my addy is Justin69SK@aol.com I answer all my mail.


The afternoon bell rang at one fifty-six PM in Central High, Jim was in study, he grabbed his books from the desk and dashed for his locker. He knew that he had to hurry to catch the others in the hub. The hub is the nervous system of Central High, it's where several halls come together, including the administrative office wing; it is also the last place the kids from school congregate before boarding the yellow busses.

Tom was standing near the drinking fountain, with Sherry at his side. Tom is a senior in the school, class of 1974. He's a strapping youth, 18 years old, stands 6'1", and weighs 180 pounds. He is very muscular, has light hair, hazel eyes, with average looks, but thinks he's a god. The guy everyone hates, except himself, he's deeply in love with himself. The kind of person every class seems to have, and so often there are many like him.

Sherry is Tom's steady girl; they've been going together since the two were sophomores. Sherry has long blonde straight hair, which she wears down her back. She's really ditzy, lacking in common sense, and often the brunt of jokes she doesn't understand. She's a likable person because, after all, she is the head of the varsity cheerleading squad. Sherry seems to have many friends; she's pleasant, and funny to be around because of her dimwitted way.

Right next to the young couple stood Sherry's best friend, Monica. Monica is a quiet, reserved girl; she stands about five foot four. She has brown hair, which she keeps short, and brown eyes, which she keeps behind her large glasses. Monica was certainly a fashion statement from the `70's, she often wore blue jeans bell bottoms with the elephant bells, and denim shirts covered with fleece lined vests. The vests always were covered with political buttons and pins, as well as sewn-on flowers that lined the back. She was a women's libber, very hip to women's rights, and never let anyone forget her views. She wasn't vocal about her views, it was more the way she'd dressed and acted. Occasionally in class, she would blurt out some tremendous epiphany, which you knew she had put much thought into. Other than the occasional sharing of her intellect, Monica was what most would call a `wall-flower.'

Usually, no matter where you went in Massena, if you saw one of them you saw the other, as far as Tom, Sherry, and Monica were concerned. On a rare occasion, you could find Monica alone, but never Tom or Sherry, the two lovers were always with someone, if not themselves. The two were never comfortable being alone.

Jim was walking at a faster pace to get to his locker, he had little time to waste, but he wouldn't run. `Running is what geeks do,' he reasoned with himself, as he rounded the corner of the hallway from the study hall into the hub.

Randy came streaming up the corridor, just behind Jim. He reached out and tried to knock Jim's books from under his arms, but missed. Jim stopped quick and turned around before Randy realized. Randy ran straight into Jim with his arm outreached, and hit Jim square in the stomach.

"It's good to ssssee-ahhh you too, Buddy," Jim gasped as he doubled over from the pain inflicted by his charging friend.

"Oh damn, I'm sorry, Jim. Are you all right?" Randy asked, with all his concern.

Jim slowly stood up and began to dial his combination. Jim always preset the dial, so all he had to do was turn it to the last number. He lifted the silver handle and opened the small metal cabinet that held his school books, and a few supplies. On the inside of the door, Jim had some pictures of his mom and dad, and a couple of Randy and him.

"Yeah, I'll survive. What were you trying to do?"

Tom, Sherry, and Monica quickly walked over to Jim's locker. Monica seemed to be staring at Randy. Tom was laughing at the collision the two had just had, as he pulled on Sherry's hand, keeping her with him. Sherry just followed along.

"Hey, you boys want a ride home in the Goat?" Tom, finally able to gain his composure, offered.

"What goat? When did you get a goat, Tom? You didn't tell me you had a goat. Did you know about this, Monica?" Sherry asked, obviously not knowing Goat was the hip way to say GTO, Tom's new car.

"My car, Sweet Cheeks, it's called a Goat," Tom explained, he loved feeling superior.

"Really?" Sherry asked, with a look of confusion on her face.

"Sure, we got to hurry though, we got milking to do," Randy answered for both him and Jim.

The five walked out of the school and crossed the paved driveway and headed to the senior parking lot, where Tom's red chariot was parked. The afternoon sun glistened on the chrome, and the bright red vehicle stood out.

Tom started the engine and it roared with the sound of power, he revved it up a few times as the others got in. The cherry bomb mufflers made the powerful engine even louder. The whole car shook with the rumblings of the large motor under the hood. The interior was all vinyl, black in color. The floorboards had black carpet, not the plastic mats that other cars had.

The dashboard was full of gauges, including tachometer and temperature. Mounted in the center was a GM custom stereo, with an eight-track tape player built in. None of the passengers had ever seen such an equipped car. Tom reached over to the passenger floor and grabbed a tape out of a case; it was Led Zeppelin IV, with Stairway to Heaven on it, the hottest tape in Massena since it came out.

"Hey, Sherry, do you have a doobie rolled?" Tom shouted above the quad sound speakers mounted in the front and back of the car.


"Well, spark that baby up, this stuff is heavy, guys, take it easy, wouldn't want you to nod off and have a cow step on you or something," Tom joked as he took the joint from Sherry and lit it.

The smell of marijuana burning is like no other; it reminds you of burning rope, the heavy weave kind you use on a boat or farm. It also smells a little like burning leaves in the autumn. It is truly an odor that hangs in the air, and easily recognized once you've smelled it. It clings to the fabric of clothes and lingers for several hours after it has been burned.

Tom handed the joint off to Sherry and held his toke deep in his lungs. Sherry took a quick puff and handed it to Monica who sat in the back seat, between Jim and Randy. As Monica inhaled, Tom began coughing and hacking, the pressure of the smoke in his lungs had expanded, and burst out of his mouth.

"Whoa, man, I already got a buzz, man," Tom said each word slowly and enunciated.

The joint made its way around the car to Jim, he took his hit, and drew the smoke into his lungs slowly; he too held his breath after drawing the herb into his body. He slowly handed the `j' over to Randy. Monica couldn't hold it any longer, and blew all her smoke into Jim's face as he reached across her to hand the joint to Randy. Tears filled Jim's eyes, as he slowly released his hit.

"Take it easy, Buddy, this stuff is dope, man," Jim advised Randy.

"I know, and I want some too." Randy made fun of Jim's inadvertent homonym.

"Of course it is, Jim, what did you think we were smoking?" Sherry announced proudly, and asked innocently.

Monica and Randy couldn't contain themselves, realizing Sherry had no knowledge of the dual meaning of the word was a laugh in itself. Monica slowly dropped her hand, as if it were subconsciously, onto Randy's leg, she looked to his dark brown eyes for a reaction. Randy squirmed a little bit, he felt funny having Monica's hand on his thigh, but he didn't reveal his thoughts in his facial expressions. He just let her hand rest warmly on his upper leg, as he toked on the joint.

"Hey, I got the new Wings tape, `Band on the Run', you guys want to hear it?" Tom broke in.

"Sure, I love McCartney," Monica piped up.

The powerful Pontiac sped down route 56, Bob's Motel was coming up on the right; the five kids all stoned, and only the small roach was left. Tom was the last one to hit the shrunken `j'; he looked at Sherry as he sucked on the remnants of it.

"You want any more? How `bout you, Jim? Anyone want to eat it?" No one answered, they were all oblivious.

He slowly rolled his window down to toss the small remains out; suddenly he felt the burning sensation on his thumb and forefinger. The massive automobile began to sway across the double yellow line painted in the center of the two-lane state highway. Tom's attention had been drawn to the pain he felt in his right hand; he looked up and saw the large tractor-trailer bearing down on the front end of his new car.

Quickly and with the pumping of his body's adrenaline, Tom jerked the steering wheel to the right. Sherry was pushed towards her door, while the three teens in the back seat were thrown to the left side of the car and forced Jim's body into the side of the two-door car. The dull thud of Sherry's head hitting her window could be heard above Paul and the band. Monica let out a screech, and dug her fingers into Randy's leg.

The car shot back across the yellow lines, and streamed for the slight embankment that ran in front of the motel. The loud shrieking of the tires rang in all their ears, as the car careened across the hard pavement. The smell of burning rubber filled the small compartment they all shared. The glaring sunlight ricocheted off the side view mirror on Sherry's door, into Tom's eyes.

Tom pushed with all his might on the brake pedal, he felt it as it collapsed under the weight of both his feet and he drove it to the floor. He could feel the release of back pressure as the pedal descended. Fear clenched at all his senses. He watched as the car bounced up the slight grade of the grassy slope in front of Bob's. He actually saw blades of grass fly individually into the windshield. He saw clumps of dirt and sod fly through the air as he felt the front end of his car being lifted up the slight grade.

The car jumped over the embankment, and sparks flew from the rear end as it came down hard on the jacked up tires. The car was out of control; it sped towards the poles holding the canopy roof up over the registration office. A blur of gray and white washed through the minds of the kids, as the car slid between the poles, through the window and wall of the building's front office.

Pieces of paper flew through the air, as the car came to a rest right at the edge of the front desk. A middle-aged man, with terror in his eyes, watched as the smoke and steam filled the room. The overheating of the engine left an odor, mixed with the burnt tires. The smell of the marijuana seemed to be hanging somewhere in the air with the other scents, but most detectable.

"You fucking Pot Heads. Look what you've done to my hotel," the portly older man yelled as he came out from his position of safety. "I ought to call the cops. Is that you, Tom? What would your father say?" He continued to chastise the young kids.

"I'm sorry, Bob. Please, I'll pay for the damages. It was all my fault," Tom yelled out his rolled down window.

"You're god-damn right you will. I have half a mind to call the frigging state police. God damn you," Bob yelled.

It was about forty-five minutes later when the car was safely backed out of the front lobby to Bob's Motel. Bob had to use his John Deere 410 rubber tire backhoe to extricate the former mint condition Pontiac GTO out of the rubble, it was the same tractor he used for clearing his parking lot in the winter of the snow. Jim and Randy were worried about being late to work, Bob was wondering how he would get the lobby fixed, and Tom worried about his father finding out. They all knew there would be some ramifications, but knew they could handle it amongst themselves.

"Listen, Bob, I'll run down to see Jim and Dave, over to Massena Building Supply, I'll have them send up some plywood and 2 by's with nails and stuff. I'll help you board the place up for tonight, and starting tomorrow and every day after school until I finish; I'll come by and help put the wall back in place," Tom confidently reassured the motel proprietor.

"You're damn right you will, or I swear to God, I'll call your father, and you know what that will mean." Bob pointed his finger at the slightly dented car, "As it is, you're going to have a tough time explaining that to him."

"Yes, sir, I'll be back in about an hour. Thank you, Bob," Tom said as he and the others got back into the car.

Tom eased the Pontiac back onto route 56 and took the right to head back up to the Lapointe Farm, it was just after three, both Jim and Randy were late. The effects of the pot had worn off with all the commotion. Monica sat in the back seat still in the middle of the two farm hands, affectionately staring at Randy. Sherry sat in the front with Tom, no one said a word until they pulled into the gravel driveway of the farm.

"You still want me to get the beer for Friday?" Tom asked as Jim climbed out of the back seat and door.

"Yeah, that will be good." He didn't want to hang around, he knew Matt would be upset, it was the second time today he was late, and Randy was late now, too.

Randy climbed out the passenger door; he looked towards the machine shop and noticed the small tractor was gone. That could only mean that Matt had gone up to the pasture alone to bring the cows down to the barn. Just as he saw the tractor gone from its usual parking spot, he noticed the herd coming over the crest of the hill on the trail that ran from the barn to the pasture. He could hear Matt calling the cows, he used his head to point it towards the barn, Jim understood, and the two boys shot into the barn. Tom and the girls drove away.

The milking was done in silence. Matt was furious, too mad to say a word. Randy washed the cows and got them standing without speaking. Jim went about his chores and wouldn't even look in Matt's direction. Carol was in the barn helping; the only time Carol helped with the milking was if someone was sick. Jim knew he'd be in trouble after Randy left, but his thoughts were still on Friday night and Steve.

Carol was helping Matt do the milking, so Randy had to work quickly to keep ahead of the two. She seemed to be the only one in a chatty kind of mood. Not much ever seemed to faze her; Carol always looked at the bright side of things. The only thing that ever seemed to upset Carol was being woken before she had to get up. She stood alongside of one of the cows and watched the three men go about their chores in silence. `Enough of this nonsense,' she thought to herself.

"Was that Tom's new car? It looked like it had a dented front end, is that how he got it?" Carol had heard at Jenny's earlier in the day from Tom's mother that they had bought him a new car.

"Yeah, we had a little accident on the way home today," Randy finally broke his silence.

"Oh?" Carol shot out.

"Tom ran off the road over to Bob's Motel, wiped out the front office," Jim volunteered.

Matt kept milking, but was all ears. He wouldn't ask why the boys were late, he'd just brood about it. He was concerned though, just too much of a man to let his feelings be known. He listened intently, but continued with his task at hand, pretending not to pay attention.

"Was anyone hurt? How's Bob?" Carol was intent on finding out all the details.

"Just the car and the front of the motel, maybe Tom's pride, but we all know that won't last long." Jim tried to make little of the disaster.

"You should have seen it, Matt, the car went flying over the embankment, and crashed right through the front window. Glass and grass flew everywhere." Randy sounded almost like he was bragging.

"Tom shouldn't have a car like that, I saw his dad in town today, he told me it has a 455 that he had custom installed, had to cut the fire wall." Matt said with little emotion.

Jim had begun cleaning the main aisle of the cow shit, and shoveled it into the manure gutter. He stopped for a few seconds near the others who were just about halfway through the barn. He watched Matt as he removed the milker and its suction tubes off 59, one of the Jerseys, and walked around towards 86. He thought about 86, he had picked the sire on her. 86 had been a good producer, the bull he picked off the chart on the wall near the grain room. The chart provided by the Dairy Farm Association gave all the statistics about the bulls, and showed a picture of each. It was for artificial insemination, so you could pick a good line. Jim almost felt like a parent of sorts on the cows he had picked the sperm on. Matt had trusted Jim more lately to do the picking.

"Jim, I want you to come right home after school from now on. Do you want me to send Carol for you?" Matt finally said, "because these ladies can't wait, twice a day every day."

"No, sir. I'm sorry." Jim looked to the cement floor and began shoveling again.

Matt looked over to his wife, smiled, and winked. She winked back at him, but neither said another word.

After the chores were finished, Jim invited Randy for dinner. Randy was excited, he hadn't eaten dinner with the Lapointes in quite a while, but it was more for being with Jim that his excitement grew. The two boys took a quiet stroll out to the river after dinner, as the sun began to set on their backs. Randy was in awe of how the late summer sunset looked so beautiful, and cast its orange hues on Jim's curly brown hair.

Randy was mesmerized with his best friend's looks, `Jim is two inches taller than me, and two months younger,' he thought to himself. `Someday I'd like to kiss those thin lips on that baby face of his,' he dreamt to himself, while the two boys walked through the last meadow that banked the river. The sounds of the rushing water could be heard over the breeze blowing through the tall, thick, rich green grass, along with a few birds squawking overhead.

"You're awfully quiet, Randy," Jim gently probed his friend.

"Yeah, it's a beautiful night, I wish I brought my bathing suit, I'd like to go for a dip," Randy replied with a sigh.

"I wish we had a joint of that pot that Sherry had," Jim admitted.

Randy began daydreaming again about being alone with Jim, smoking a joint and swimming in the Grasse River while the sun went down, he visualized them being naked. He began to feel shame for his thoughts, but couldn't seem to erase them from his mind.

"Hey, you know what we ought to do Friday? We ought to bring Steve out here and go skinny dipping like we used to," Jim thought out loud, thinking it would be a way to see what Steve looked like naked, and not be too obvious about what he really had in mind.

"What about Tom, Sherry, and Monica, you think they'll go skinny dipping with us?" Randy tried to dash the idea, feeling a little remorseful about Jim's sudden interest in Steve.

"I could have you guys sleep over, and then Saturday morning after milking the three of us could come out here." Jim wasn't letting up.

Randy felt like someone, or something, had stung him. He wanted so much to swim naked with Jim, but just Jim. He wanted to show Jim how much he really loved him. He began to feel uneasy, he couldn't let Jim see his sadness, and the tears that began to well up in his little charcoal-like eyes. He made a mad dash to the bank of the river ripped his clothes off and, clad only in his underwear, jumped into the cool clear water.

Jim walked down to the water's edge and took his shoes and socks off and hung his bare feet in the water, while he watched his friend playing in the river. His thoughts were on Steve. He could picture Steve's smooth torso, with the rippling muscles, the one he had seen in gym class. He felt his penis begin to stir inside his baggies, he was glad he had put them on before dinner.

"So what do you think, you want to sleep over Friday night?" Jim shouted over the sounds of the water as it rushed around and over the rocks placed on the river bed.

Randy knew Jim wasn't going to give up, and it hurt him even more. He decided that being Jim's friend was the most important thing in the world to him, and if it meant he had to share Jim with Steve to keep Jim happy, then that was what he had to do.

"Sure thing. I wouldn't miss it, and for you, Jim, I would do just about anything."

"I'd do anything for you too, Randy," Jim stated with conviction.

Randy thought about what Jim had just said, `anything, Jim, I wish you'd do anything, I'd love to do anything with you,' ran through his mind. He would just have to settle for being a friend. How could he ever admit his true feelings? He wondered silently to himself how other boys, or men for that matter, approached others that felt the same way, as his heart broke. He slowly walked out of the water towards his clothes, he felt like dying.

After Randy dried off a little and dressed, he and Jim walked back to the house. It was nearing eight thirty by the time they got back. Carol offered to take the two boys to Dairy Queen when she took Randy home. She had wanted to take a look at Bob's Motel; both places were on route 56 in the same direction of Randy's house. She also wanted some ice cream; she loved the soft serve vanilla at DQ.

It was going on ten o'clock when Carol and Jim got back home, Matt had already gone to bed. They said good night to each other and went to their bedrooms. Jim knew he would have to make sure he got up on time the next morning, so he made sure his alarm was set. He lay awake for several minutes; his thoughts were on Steve. He also thought about what it was going to be like to have his license, and the freedom he would have to go places. He began to think about the money that he had saved, the money that Matt paid him for working on the farm. It wasn't much, but the twenty-five dollars a week had added up over the almost three years. He knew he had just over three thousand dollars in the bank. He thought about the kind of car he could buy.

He had his eye on the '69 Dodge Charger, the black one with the black vinyl top, that Murray Premo was selling. It was a beautiful machine, had a 426 Hemi motor, 4 speed manual transmission, positraction rear end. The interior was complete with bucket seats. The best part was that Murray wanted a thousand dollars for the car, but he knew Murray had fallen on some bad times since his son was killed in Viet Nam, and he could probably get it for eight or nine hundred cash. It had been Nick's car, Premo's son. He felt bad for old man Premo, Nick was his only son, he could have gotten out of the draft, but he volunteered to go. Murray hadn't been the same since; he started drinking and sold off his cows. Matt had leased some land from him for hay, so they knew Premo was in a bad way.

He fell asleep with thoughts of Steve and him riding around Massena in the black Charger. In his dreams, though, Steve wasn't the face he saw, Randy was.


There you go; I `d like to thank you all for reading this story. If you'd like send me an e-mail and let me know your thoughts. My addy is Justin69SK@aol.com

Thanks Ed for editing.

As Always,

But not forever,