Things on the farm are heating up!
The week before Shayna’s string of “accidents”, she had been returning home, after applying for a waitress job at the local Hooters, when she happened to notice the billboard outside the Baptist church on the corner. As she made her usual right turn, something compelled her to turn sharply and without warning into its empty weekday parking lot. There she sat, both hands on the steering wheel, shoulders hunched over, her mind lost in thought, staring straight ahead at the sign before her: Is Your Husband Gay? Don’t Live In Sin Anymore, Let Christ Help You To Read the Signs! Printed underneath was this website address: christwire.org
Shayna didn’t know why she suddenly turned her car into the church lot that day, but once she did, that same unsettling feeling began to arise in her gut again. Sure Hank liked to listen to George Michael’s Greatest Hits in the shower, color coordinate their flatware with the throw pillows and tweeze his eyebrows, but did that make him gay? Yes he had a gym membership, spent hours on the computer and took his phone into the bathroom with him, but did that make him gay? She tried to think back. Had her new lipstick been unusually low last time she went to use it? Her dresses on the wrong hanger? She couldn’t remember, but before she called on Christ for help, Shayna hatched a plan.
She immediately turned the car around and headed back to Hooter’s. This, she thought, this oughta clear things up. Once there, she signed up to be a contestant in the bikini pageant being held the following Saturday, the very day that would see Shayna “falling down a hill in her platforms.”
When Saturday finally arrived, Hank was busy typing away, like usual, on his computer when Shayna stepped in the direct fire line of his vision, dressed in her hot pants, with her bajongas hanging out of a Hooters half shirt. “Hank,” she tried purring, “ I didn’t wanna say nothin’ cuz I wanted it to be a real surprise, but me and you are goin' down to the Hooter’s tonight. I got me a bikini contest to win! Ain’t it great Hank!”
Hank looked up ever so slightly from his screen and then back down again, “I ain’t goin’ nowheres Shayna.”
“But Hank! I did this for you! What is wrong with you anyways? Why ya always in front of that thing. Just who the hell are ya talkin’ to Hank? You gonna start makin’ me think somethin’ ain’t right now.”
“Who I’m talking to ain’t none of your bizness Shayna. Good luck gettin’ them saddle bags of yours past them judges.”
With that, Shayna stormed off.
Or that is what we have been led to believe. What Shayna would have liked us to believe. Perhaps Shayna never did storm off. Perhaps, with her growing suspicions about Hank’s secretive behavior, more words were exchanged. Words and accusations that felt threatening to Hank. Words that perhaps emboldened Hank to go to the coup next to the trailer and pick up his favorite chicken, Shaniqua, from the pen and chase Shayna with it, knowing all along that one of her greatest fears was live poultry. Perhaps, all dolled up in her hot pants and heels, Shayna never really did fall down a steep hill alone, but rather scraped her knees and sprained her foot desperately trying to escape, over dark, bumpy farmland, from a deranged, perfectly tanned and tweezed chicken wielding Hank.
Tune in tomorrow to find out what Shayna finds when she returns from the store with the Meryl Strip romantic comedy Hank requested!
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