Home > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.: Third Class into the Western Sun

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.: Third Class into the Western Sun

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

 

I told the guy at the ticket office to get me on a car as soon as possible. He dallied a bit, played for a few minutes with a paddle-ball game, then shoved a third-class ticket on the Lankville Western Limited into my hand.  Departure time: 45 minutes.

I wandered into the station and picked out three nature photography magazines. Some tard came up and pressed a little cardboard box into my hand. It read, “FOR THE LARGE MAN”.

“What the hell is this?”
“Open it…jus’…open it up,” he said. He guffawed uncontrollably between the words.

It was a rubber that looked like it was made for a horse.

“Idn’t that…idn’t that real funny?” he said. He wandered off. I looked at the guy at the ticket office. He shrugged his shoulders.

We boarded an hour later. I noticed that the tard was in my car and this worried me. There was also a furtive Islander in a suit, this worried me further. I figured on getting off at the next stop.

Typical transload shed for humus and peat.

Typical transload shed for humus and peat.

It was a lonely country station and the sun was about to go down. It was just me and a cute piece of blonde trash that got off– the tard and the Islander stayed on. There was a guy sweeping the floor inside.

“Where’s there to go here?” I asked.

He thought a minute.
“There’s a transload shed for humus and peat down the road.”
“I don’t figure on them having a bed to sleep in, do you?”
“Naw. Guess not.”

Jackass I thought. I contemplated punching him suddenly in the gut but the piece of blonde trash was there and I didn’t want to cause a scene.

It was a dirt road that led into a tired old mill town. The piece of blonde trash followed about 50 yards behind me. I felt that we were both walking into a burning western sun and that neither of us would ever be forgiven. But when I next looked behind me, I saw that the piece of blonde trash was on a porch, far in the distance, being greeting lovingly by two elderly lesbians. Everybody has somebody but me I thought.

I walked back to the station and punched the attendant in the gut.

Then I felt a little better.

  1. Mikhail Goberman
    June 12, 2014 at 11:29 am

    I remember this one. Classic.

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