I was happy that the shoe repair place wasn't to far from the edge of the desert. Then again, nothing in town was. I couldn't walk in a straight line because of having to weave around piles of horseshit which was unusual. Piles never stayed in the street very long. Not because there was a community employed horse shit janitor, no, it was a valuable commodity because the sand here was not ideal for growing anything you really wanted to eat other then stunted corn. These were fresh ones too. I was already walking next to building walls and watching windows so now I started easing around corners. I did slide past a window and caught a glimpse of a young lady getting dressed. That was both cheesy and cool. Mostly cheesy. Nice rack though.
I eased around the last corner before the cobblers and saw the old man with the eye patch sitting in a folding chair out front watching me. He yelled out, "Whatcha doing fella! Stealing chickens or looking for boobies!"
It took me a few beats to process "boobies" and put it in context. I felt my face flush and it didn't help that he started cackling like a demented idiot which I was sure he wasn't but one step or two removed from. I kept walking and when I was close enough enough that I didn't have to yell I told him, "shut the fuck up old man." He just cackled some more.
I brushed past him resisting the urge to wallop upside the head with the barrel of a gun.
"She's waiting for you. You give her something sweet and she might fix that bum leg of yours." I stopped dead, maybe a pace from the door, and quietly asked him, "You want to repeat that."
"I said talk sweet to her and she might fix your leg. She used to be a nurse."
I knew that wasn't what he said but I let it slide. Instead as I turned the doorknob I said over my shoulder, "You got a scorpion on your shirt by your armpit." His, "What! What! Where!" making me laugh as I stepped to one side of the door to let my eyes adjust to the dimness.