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The Burned Handler
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I used to be a handler like you, then I turned into a horse.
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Cris had been contentedly humming along as he strolled until the question reached his ears, at which point he didn't stop but he did go quiet for a moment as if picking his words.

"Well, the seniors are gone. Some drafted, some not. Mets jumped on Taro like he lays golden eggs so he's off to Vegas. The rest of us have been practising, letting the whole 'state champs' thing sink in and figuring out who'll take over for captain. Coach says not to get lazy but a lot of us have been putting our feet up."

To be cliché, it still didn't feel quite real. They'd gone to Surprise Stadium and played their hearts out, bolstered by it being the first chance at state title glory for Cochise since 2011, and it turned out to be enough. Just barely. Hours after the final game his pitching arm had still been sore enough he could barely use it, such a slog it had been. Hadn't he told Jane about it when the Coyotes got back to Kingman? He couldn't remember. It probably didn't matter, even if he found himself straightening with pride, his voice going up just a tiny bit in pitch, as he thought about what his team had accomplished. The rocks and sun and desert grass looked on, uncaring, but he could ignore the heat if they were like this.
MurderWeasel getting impatient
Hiya, jerk! Please don't post until edits have been completed, as doing so causes confusion/messes up the queue.

18:48 Ruggawork I have faith in you!
18:48 Ruggawork and your ass!

16:35 Kilmarnock Maybe Iktor?
16:35 Kilmarnock Maybe Toben.
16:35 Kilmarnock hard to tell until they make out with me.
16:35 *** mib_6brm7d is now known as Irene

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Walkabouts · Memories from the Past