One of those Days, Again (eBook)

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22 pages | eBook | 6x9"
Date of publication: 01/22/2016
  • ISBN: 978-1-943528-30-1
  • Model: 3523 words

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Heat Rating: 2 Flames

 

A day in the life of Jessie Boren and Troy Jordan--a miner and a massage therapist respectively--in western coal country.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jessie Boren walked into the house, tired from a long shift at the mine. Protesters had been crowding around, going on about how the coal and uranium mines were evil and dirtying the world and a host of other nonsense, completely forgetting that coal mines ran twenty-four seven to keep these protesters and everyone else on the planet, comfortable with electricity for heat in the winter, A/C in the summer, and Internet all the time. He had a brief, amused mental picture of the vitriolic outcry that would come from those same protesters if the mines did shut down, just like they wanted, for about a week. As soon as the electricity went out, for roughly seventy-five to eighty percent of the country, including right here in his small Wyoming hometown, all for lack of coal at the power plants to keep them running, those precious darlings protesting the use of coal would be protesting the lack of unspoiled food, functional gas pumps to drive their little hybrid cars, and, perhaps worst of all, no Facebook.

It wasn't that he disagreed that the planet was warming dangerously fast and all that, it was just that the mines were required to restore the land after mining and obey the strictures put in place by the EPA and MSHA. Most mining companies did mine responsibly, contrary to the belief of the little snot-nosed brats that had nothing else to do but cause trouble. If they were so hell-bent on saving the planet, why didn't they go do something useful, like develop technologies that would improve the usage of coal and other fossil fuels, making them more efficient, cleaner and safer, or find cancer cures, or figure out how to get everybody healthcare without them having to sell their first-born into slavery. Find cures for AIDS and Ebola. Those would be useful, world-saving things to do.

He snorted, amused at his own thoughts. Okay, maybe healthcare wasn't that bad--yet. Damn close though. He sat down and began pulling off his tennies, rubbing at his feet a little. It had been run, run, run today, with equipment breaking down left, right, center and sideways; on top of dealing with idiot kids. All of the protesters he'd seen, either out at the mine, or in town, were kids, thinking that they're the next generation of hippies, trying to sneak into the mine proper, down into the pits where the little morons could get themselves killed, or get someone who belonged there killed, trying to avoid killing the trespassers. He didn't mind they had something to say, hell, he'd protested a time or two when he was in college; he did mind them putting themselves and everyone else at risk to do it. The First Amendment guaranteed them the right to peaceful assembly and protest, why did they have to try to cause damage to others' property?

He smiled in sheer happy pleasure as he heard Troy in the kitchen, singing to himself. From the smell of things, he was making barbeque chicken. Jessie wondered if it would be with rice or potatoes tonight. Standing back up and stretching, he headed into the kitchen they'd spent a weekend painting a bright, warm yellow, amazed again by the sight of his partner of five years.

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This book was added to our catalog on Saturday 26 September, 2015.

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