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April 22, 2016
Posted at 2:32 pm
 

Chapter 380 of Book 3 is in the queue

This week with Arlene and Jeff:

...Working well into the night, he finally completed his shelling. With the deer and panther skins as supple as he could make them, he decided to concentrate on the tiger skins tonight. He started with the vertical post he had mounted near a rock of the proper height. Sitting on the rock, he draped the hide over the short post and pushed the skin down, stretching it over the rounded wood, then moved the skin a couple inches and repeated. A considerable amount of force was needed to stretch the hide, and repeating the process used the same muscles over and over. Gripping the hide to hold it while applying that much force tired his hands, not to mention that the odd angle tired his arms after repeating the process dozens upon dozens of times. After an hour or so, he changed to using the horizontal pole. This still tired his hands, but pulling instead of pushing at least changed the muscles he was using.

Thirty minutes into stretching the skin over the horizontal bar, he must have pulled a little harder than usual. There was a sudden, loud crack and he was dumped on the ground with half the pole hitting his head as he slammed his knees into the hard dirt.

"Shit," he yelled out as he untangled himself from the hide to rub the already swelling bump on the back of his head. Then, "Shut up Smartass, I can hear you," he snarled as Lobo quietly chuffed. When the chuffing immediately grew louder, "It is not that funny," he grumped, but Lobo wasn't impressed and chuffed even louder.

"As much as I've used that pole for a chinning bar, and now it decides to break," he snarled. After rolling his precious hide back up, he examined the pole, deciding the next one would not have any knots in it. Apparently the pole would support his weight, but failed with the weight of the hide added. Getting a new pole would have to wait for daylight, though. I'm not familiar enough with the nightlife around here to go out cutting a pole after dark. Fuck it. I'm tired, anyway.

After a piss in the brain bucket, he sacked out for the night...



Have a goodun;

Roust