‘It’s bloody confusing,’ Jake said one night. ‘No one seems to really know what to do. All we can do is clean up the farms and help them get g...ing again.’ It was more than confusing. Even after they had started the incubators and were producing chickens. Hordes of inspectors flooded on to the farms and chicken sheds. They walked around for hours and left without making any determination or suggestions. It seemed no local wanted to make the hard call. Once again, Mr. Treet helped. The farm. I knew that I made a pretty picture in the spring late afternoon light. Red hair down to my ass, size 12 jeans that clung to every curve, a Harley-Davidson tank top that declared ‘Put something exciting between your legs’ that showed my 44D cleavage to its maximum advantage, and mirrored shades to add an aura of mystery. I saw him in the office and knew it was him immediately. Still hadn’t really changed after all the years. He was looking at me with more than a little lust in those electric. More

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