Boys Will Be Boys
For the rest of the morning I was given a special task. I hated special tasks. With toilet duties or laundry one knew what they were in for. But special tasks could be anything. Bloody recipe for disaster.
I was hoping to be sent to the tack room again, even if that meant to be intellectually violated by Slacker Boy. But Her Cuntlingness walked me towards the oil-tight area where the four-by-fours were parked. Vehicle maintenance, then. Which normally was a group duty, given the number of cars. The Oners had washed the whole fleet last week, so I assumed (correctly) I was expected to tend to only a single car. Boring, menial, but not too bad. Until I saw what I was up against.
“Some of the boys have had a little bit of fun.” Continue reading