Some of us Dairy Boys were sitting on the corral fence, just finished another thirteen-hour day. All the milk cows were back in the barn now and we were just waitin' for the Rollcall bell to ring for suppertime.
A new guy, pretty big sonofabitch, came walking towards us from the office. He was wearin’ some pretty ragged overalls, a dirty old t-shirt, and some old, worn leather boots – all looked like Army Surplus to me.
“Hey y’all. Name is Dykus - Roger Lee Dykus. I’m on the Dairy Boy Crew. You the Dairy Boys?”
Connors and I looked at each other and smiled. What we surely had here with this boy, was a one-hundred percent pure Arkansas Hillbilly. No doubt about it - from waaayyyyy back in them hills. We definitely gonna put this motherfucker to work.
I knew we would need to quickly educate Mr. Roger Lee Dykus. Because of his size we will be organizing a blanket party - sometime during his second week when supervisors weren’t on watch for it any longer. Some night soon Roger Lee will wake up in a total panic - ’cause he can’t breathe and can’t see, ’cause he is being smothered and gagged with his blanket, and hands around his throat - being held down and beaten hard by five guys - all of ‘em veterans in executin’ this thirty-second attack with no mercy, as silently as possible. We wanted Mr. Dykus to understand that he is all alone now, and he better just go along and get along on our crew -’cause all kinds of accidents can happen on the Dairy. And blanket parties can happen anytime.
Connors gave me that sly smirk smile he gets when he’s thinkin’ up somethin’. Connors could always think up the best Dairy Boy initiations for any new motherfucker comin’ onto our crew, and now he came up with an idea that hadn’t been tried in a really long time - since before I was here. Right away I wanted to do it.
Fat ass Polinski said “What did ya say your name was? Roger Lee Dickface?”
Polinski burst out laughing pretty hard at his own joke. Polinski never made a joke that anyone else laughed at, and he often got slapped to shut him up.
This hillbilly says again, “the name is Dykus - Roger Lee Dykus. You guys the Dairy Boys? This here's the Dairy, ain't it? “
‘Cause he didn’t get slapped for his first joke Polinski tried another one, “No, we’re the Pig Slop Boys.” and started his laughing again. No one else thought this was funny, but Polinski had wisely moved outside swingin’ range of any one of us.
“Polinski shut the fuck up you fuckin' moron,” I said.
Yeah, we did slop the pigs every mornin’. But we were the Dairy Boys and our crew commanded respect on the hill. Pigs were really the responsibility of the Farm Boys crew; Dairy Boys were responsible for our milk cows and our herds of Herefords and Angus cattle – more than sixty head. No doubt pigs are important, but our crew handled the large animals on this p-farm.
Us Dairy Boys only slopped the pigs ‘cause we were up b‘fore everyone else on the place, and that’s when the pigs want their breakfast. Dairy Boys had to get up by 4:00 AM every day. Seven days a week our cows had to be lined up and ready to go by 6:00 for their first milkin’.
So after breakfast on our way to the Dairy, we stop and cook the morning slop for the pigs. Not sure why the Farm Boys got to sleep longer while we slopped their fuckin' pigs. But Farm Boys crew and Dairy Boys crew were longtime allies for many years before I ever got here. Together we provided most of the food for the Training School. So we had a lot of power on the hill.
But except for feedin’ the pigs their early morning slop, the Farm Boys took care of pigs. Polinski needs to watch his fuckin' mouth before one of us decides to hard bump that fat head of his.
