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Campfire Tales

Rage Against The Farm Machine

Summertime found the Farm in another period of great transition. Folks came and went, relationships formed and soured, truckloads of crap were hauled in to litter the property, then hauled back out to the dump. Same old, same old. One day, yet another new face rolled in driving an old red truck, its hillbilly wooden sidewalls bursting with bundles of boards and birdhouses. The loads were dumped straight onto the ground beside the big steel barn, along with tools and table saws and the like.

The new face went by the name of Angus Mooney and it wasn’t a friendly one. Though of no known relation to the resident Mooney family, his hoarding skills already rivaled those of George, and as such he was granted immediate acceptance into the clan. Angus was a large man, standing six-foot-five, with fiery red hair and a temper to match. He had a loud booming voice reminiscent of the famous Las Vegas duo Penn & Teller (whichever one talked), and with some green body paint could almost play the part of Shrek. He looked tough enough to be a hit man, if there was such a thing as the Joe Dirte School of Redneck Thuggery. First impressions were made with a faded Judas Priest t-shirt and torn flannel hoodie and, as a result, initial reception wasn’t warm.

According to George’s novella of a text message sent out to all residents, Angus was a skilled craftsman who owned a woodworking business. He and his wife had separated, and he just needed a quiet place to call home for a while. Something off the beaten path with a slow pace of life so he could “find himself”. This “need a fresh start” story wasn’t unique, and was the same reason a lot of folks ended up at the Farm: job loss, illness, divorce. But everyone took one look at Angus and his total lack of pride, plus the rapid importation of man crap, and translated George’s poetic message into something more along the lines of “Wife kicked him out, broke on his ass.”

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