Status: Sorry about the lack of indentation, I edit the story but they don't show up.
Another Place, Another Time
The Ride
"Hey Lane, you ready for the ride of your life? I heard you pulled Twisted Whisker for your first ride. Man that's horrid luck, first ride an' all. You'd think they'd rig it to the point the newbies in the ring would at least have a chance an' all. I 'member my first ride, good ol' Ol' Red, Bucking K's Hereford. 'Member him? He's the one who broke through the ring 'cause he jumped the fence? 'Nd then he tipped over the concession trailer? Yeah man, good times. But hey, 'member that Twisted has a nasty ol' habit of twistin' like a clock. 'Member Rondy from the high school rodeo we rode for practice? Yeppers, he'll come bustin' and a twistin' just like him. An' don't forget-"
"Hey man, chill. This isn't the first time I've ridden a bull."
"Yeah, but this is the beginning of your professional career. But hey, I gotta go. Time for me to go get warmed up for my ride with Little Charm. Wish me luck." I nod.
As Trent wanders away, I wonder how we even ended up friends. He's always treated me like a lil' brother, but not really a friend. He's always looking out for me, but we never have those talks about life or girls or anything. Whatever, I've got enough to worry about with Twisted and all. I head over to the bull pen where a group of girls are talking about how cute the bulls are and how riding them is the worst thing ever. It's probably a bad idea, but I continue walking over there.
"You're a cowboy, aren't you?" A blonde, tall complete with the annoying pitched voice.
"Why yes, ma'am. You're a city kid now aren't you?" I like to twang it up when I can.
"Ughh! What a waste of flesh. How can you live with yourself doing to these animals what you do? How would you like it if someone strapped something to your stomach and rode you around?"
"Well, quite frankly, I wouldn't mind one bit. Are you offering?" Oh, am I horrible.
"Well I never! Come on, girls, lets go, I don't want to be around such filth. I hope you get bucked off and killed." She leaves in a huff with her pod. Or well most of them. One of them stayed back. A shorter brunette, complete with a raggedy cowboy hat, cut-off shirt, black short-shorts with 2 studded belts, and a pair tan converse.
"Well hey there cowboy, don't mind my friend Cecily, she's a nut-case who eats everything the media feeds her. I'm Miranda by the way." She puts her hand out to shake, and I notice her nails with mismatched paint that was chipping.
"No worries, I actually get that a lot but usually I get slapped or dust kicked at me. I'm Lane by the way, jerk by nature and cowboy at heart." She laughs.
"I know, I've been following the rodeo circuit for awhile now. I'm glad you finally jumped into the big leagues, you need a good challenge and watching high school bull riding isn't nearly as exciting as the circuit. And no, I'm not a stalker, but I figured a guy named Lane has to be good. You named after Lane Frost?"
"Yes ma'am. My father learned how to ride from him. They were decent friends and after he died, my father was crushed. And yeah, so anyways, would you like to get some nachos or something later?"
"Sure thing! I think I'm gonna go grab a spot in the stands before all your fans take up the good spots." With that she walked off, and I headed to my truck to get ready.
I've got my chaps, boots, spurs and hat on and head over to the ring. Its 7:10pm and the cowboy roll call is coming up. I get up by the bull pens and observe Twisted Whiskers and the other bulls by him. He's got shorter legs, but a real deep body. He's powerful to the point his muscles ripple when he's breathing. He knows whats going on. He's a young bull, but he's experienced. His sire, Twisted Wire, is in the back pen. He too is a powerful beast, but he's on his last streak. He's too predictable for the professional circuit, but just right for the high school rounds. And since he still throws good genetics, they won't end him.
"Good luck, Lane, I hear its your first pro round. Don't get trampled out there, you've got one of the few pretty faces that hasn't been tainted by hooves, yet." Jake Martins, he's danced a round or two in his career with death.
"I'd say the same to you, but you don't need luck 'cause you've got skill." With that he nods as his name and intro is called on the loudspeaker. A few more are called and then mine is.
"Lane Vanders, the prettiest cowboy ya'll will see ride here, and if ya'll see him out and about, don't be afraid to wish him a good ol' happy birthday." Travis Daniels, a prime example of why comedians shouldn't become announcers.
I walk out to a chorus of happy birthdays, and I try shushing the guys already out there, but they just sing louder.
"Happy eighteenth, Lane, don't forget to tell Twisted, maybe he'll give you eight seconds for a present." Charlie Hicks, great bull rider, greater mentor. He hosts a ridin' clinic in the summer for kids who are interested in the bull riding. I nod and wave to him, and walk out of the ring with the other riders.
My nerves are starting to get to me. I'm on the back side of the bull pens with the other riders getting ready. No one knows for sure when they ride, because whatever bulls go in the chutes determine what riders go out first. I'm stretching my legs when I hear metal crunching. I look up just in time to see Twisted Whiskers running straight at me. I jump over the fence just as he runs past. The matadors are on the case before anyone notices what's going on. They get him rounded up and in the chutes. I look and he's the third one in line. I and the other two cowboys finish stretching and head over to the chutes. On my way there, I get numerous "good lucks" and "happy birthdays" accompanied by pats on the back. I'm standing by my bull and get a good look at him. He's a misunderstood soul. Everyone sees him as a untamed hurricane ready to blow, but in reality, he's just as scared as I am right now. I pet him on the nose and stand on the platform.
"Okay, okay, boys!" Jeremy Smith comes flying out of the chute on top of Sir Churns A Lot, a White Park cross. The bull took a dead run at the fence, and comes to a complete stop before bursting into a tight spin away from Jeremy's dominant hand. He comes flying off mere tenths of a second before the eight second buzzer sounds. The matadors get the bull back in the bull pen and hand Jeremy the leather straps. He heads back to the other riders.
"A'ight, let him rip!" Alex Jones pulled Titan's Fury, a Black Angus and Brahma cross, dead set on revenge. Alex is thrown almost immediately. He lands close to the hollow barrel. Fury continues bucking until the strap comes loose. He hears the jingle of Alex's spurs and charges. He barely got in the barrel in time and is quickly rolled about until the horse mounts rope Fury and get him back to the pens.
My turn. My nerves are on high, my heart is on low and I can't clear my mind for the life of me. I've ridden numerous of times, and I get this feeling every time. I settle myself onto Twisted with the help of the hands. I wrap my left hand in good and solid. I take a deep breath.
"Let 'er rip!" The gate flies open, Twisted Whiskers flies out just as fast. He turns to the right, jolts to the left and loses balance. He regains it back on the buck. I've got this, I'm following his every move, breathing at the right time and rocking with the rhythm just right. I feel the shuddering from Twisted's pounding hooves vibrate back up his legs and into my hand to my arm. I smell the upturned ground below me. I can feel the blood coursing its way through my body. I hear the crowd for once, Miranda's voice standing out, and then my parents' voices. Finally the eight second buzzer rings and I let go. I mistimed my jump, and got launched higher than I've ever been air born before. My bodies in an unnatural position as I see the ground near. I see Twisted run in slow motion to catch me. I feel a sickening crunch as his right horn catches my side, and then every things turning black. I can't see anything, and I feel the pain radiated through my body as I'm thrown around like a rag doll. I hear the steps of the mounts come along with the ropes cutting through the air. I hear the crowds' gasps and screams of horror. I'm slipping in and out of consciousness as I hear the ambulance coming. Next thing I know, I'm being loaded into the ambulance and feel them attaching and securing things to me. I fade out of consciousness one more time.
"Hey man, chill. This isn't the first time I've ridden a bull."
"Yeah, but this is the beginning of your professional career. But hey, I gotta go. Time for me to go get warmed up for my ride with Little Charm. Wish me luck." I nod.
As Trent wanders away, I wonder how we even ended up friends. He's always treated me like a lil' brother, but not really a friend. He's always looking out for me, but we never have those talks about life or girls or anything. Whatever, I've got enough to worry about with Twisted and all. I head over to the bull pen where a group of girls are talking about how cute the bulls are and how riding them is the worst thing ever. It's probably a bad idea, but I continue walking over there.
"You're a cowboy, aren't you?" A blonde, tall complete with the annoying pitched voice.
"Why yes, ma'am. You're a city kid now aren't you?" I like to twang it up when I can.
"Ughh! What a waste of flesh. How can you live with yourself doing to these animals what you do? How would you like it if someone strapped something to your stomach and rode you around?"
"Well, quite frankly, I wouldn't mind one bit. Are you offering?" Oh, am I horrible.
"Well I never! Come on, girls, lets go, I don't want to be around such filth. I hope you get bucked off and killed." She leaves in a huff with her pod. Or well most of them. One of them stayed back. A shorter brunette, complete with a raggedy cowboy hat, cut-off shirt, black short-shorts with 2 studded belts, and a pair tan converse.
"Well hey there cowboy, don't mind my friend Cecily, she's a nut-case who eats everything the media feeds her. I'm Miranda by the way." She puts her hand out to shake, and I notice her nails with mismatched paint that was chipping.
"No worries, I actually get that a lot but usually I get slapped or dust kicked at me. I'm Lane by the way, jerk by nature and cowboy at heart." She laughs.
"I know, I've been following the rodeo circuit for awhile now. I'm glad you finally jumped into the big leagues, you need a good challenge and watching high school bull riding isn't nearly as exciting as the circuit. And no, I'm not a stalker, but I figured a guy named Lane has to be good. You named after Lane Frost?"
"Yes ma'am. My father learned how to ride from him. They were decent friends and after he died, my father was crushed. And yeah, so anyways, would you like to get some nachos or something later?"
"Sure thing! I think I'm gonna go grab a spot in the stands before all your fans take up the good spots." With that she walked off, and I headed to my truck to get ready.
I've got my chaps, boots, spurs and hat on and head over to the ring. Its 7:10pm and the cowboy roll call is coming up. I get up by the bull pens and observe Twisted Whiskers and the other bulls by him. He's got shorter legs, but a real deep body. He's powerful to the point his muscles ripple when he's breathing. He knows whats going on. He's a young bull, but he's experienced. His sire, Twisted Wire, is in the back pen. He too is a powerful beast, but he's on his last streak. He's too predictable for the professional circuit, but just right for the high school rounds. And since he still throws good genetics, they won't end him.
"Good luck, Lane, I hear its your first pro round. Don't get trampled out there, you've got one of the few pretty faces that hasn't been tainted by hooves, yet." Jake Martins, he's danced a round or two in his career with death.
"I'd say the same to you, but you don't need luck 'cause you've got skill." With that he nods as his name and intro is called on the loudspeaker. A few more are called and then mine is.
"Lane Vanders, the prettiest cowboy ya'll will see ride here, and if ya'll see him out and about, don't be afraid to wish him a good ol' happy birthday." Travis Daniels, a prime example of why comedians shouldn't become announcers.
I walk out to a chorus of happy birthdays, and I try shushing the guys already out there, but they just sing louder.
"Happy eighteenth, Lane, don't forget to tell Twisted, maybe he'll give you eight seconds for a present." Charlie Hicks, great bull rider, greater mentor. He hosts a ridin' clinic in the summer for kids who are interested in the bull riding. I nod and wave to him, and walk out of the ring with the other riders.
My nerves are starting to get to me. I'm on the back side of the bull pens with the other riders getting ready. No one knows for sure when they ride, because whatever bulls go in the chutes determine what riders go out first. I'm stretching my legs when I hear metal crunching. I look up just in time to see Twisted Whiskers running straight at me. I jump over the fence just as he runs past. The matadors are on the case before anyone notices what's going on. They get him rounded up and in the chutes. I look and he's the third one in line. I and the other two cowboys finish stretching and head over to the chutes. On my way there, I get numerous "good lucks" and "happy birthdays" accompanied by pats on the back. I'm standing by my bull and get a good look at him. He's a misunderstood soul. Everyone sees him as a untamed hurricane ready to blow, but in reality, he's just as scared as I am right now. I pet him on the nose and stand on the platform.
"Okay, okay, boys!" Jeremy Smith comes flying out of the chute on top of Sir Churns A Lot, a White Park cross. The bull took a dead run at the fence, and comes to a complete stop before bursting into a tight spin away from Jeremy's dominant hand. He comes flying off mere tenths of a second before the eight second buzzer sounds. The matadors get the bull back in the bull pen and hand Jeremy the leather straps. He heads back to the other riders.
"A'ight, let him rip!" Alex Jones pulled Titan's Fury, a Black Angus and Brahma cross, dead set on revenge. Alex is thrown almost immediately. He lands close to the hollow barrel. Fury continues bucking until the strap comes loose. He hears the jingle of Alex's spurs and charges. He barely got in the barrel in time and is quickly rolled about until the horse mounts rope Fury and get him back to the pens.
My turn. My nerves are on high, my heart is on low and I can't clear my mind for the life of me. I've ridden numerous of times, and I get this feeling every time. I settle myself onto Twisted with the help of the hands. I wrap my left hand in good and solid. I take a deep breath.
"Let 'er rip!" The gate flies open, Twisted Whiskers flies out just as fast. He turns to the right, jolts to the left and loses balance. He regains it back on the buck. I've got this, I'm following his every move, breathing at the right time and rocking with the rhythm just right. I feel the shuddering from Twisted's pounding hooves vibrate back up his legs and into my hand to my arm. I smell the upturned ground below me. I can feel the blood coursing its way through my body. I hear the crowd for once, Miranda's voice standing out, and then my parents' voices. Finally the eight second buzzer rings and I let go. I mistimed my jump, and got launched higher than I've ever been air born before. My bodies in an unnatural position as I see the ground near. I see Twisted run in slow motion to catch me. I feel a sickening crunch as his right horn catches my side, and then every things turning black. I can't see anything, and I feel the pain radiated through my body as I'm thrown around like a rag doll. I hear the steps of the mounts come along with the ropes cutting through the air. I hear the crowds' gasps and screams of horror. I'm slipping in and out of consciousness as I hear the ambulance coming. Next thing I know, I'm being loaded into the ambulance and feel them attaching and securing things to me. I fade out of consciousness one more time.