carnaval_npc (carnaval_npc) wrote in carnaval_logs, @ 2013-08-31 20:27:00 |
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Art made a point of relaxing whenever he was able on account of his rarely being able. Right now he was situated in the cab of one of the bigger baggage trucks. The front runner. It wasn’t really. But with Management’s trailer attached it was quite the load and it set the pace for the rest of the convoy. It was actually Carl’s small truck that went first though, and went on ahead when they neared their destination to scout their setup point. Art and the rest of the convoy were currently waiting for him to return so that he could lead them the rest of the way, a task he seemed to enjoy. Elbow sticking out the open window, Art was relatively relaxed. His head was in the clouds. Or on the clouds, at least. The one’s up there looked like they might actually have some rain for them. Art wasn’t looking forward to it. He’d been around these parts enough the past few years to know that rain here tended to do little more than wet the dust enough for it to stick to everything more than it already did and make the heat even more uncomfortable. That or it caused floods, but the heavens didn’t seem angry enough for that. While he was aware of the passage of time, Art felt a little cheated by the reappearance of Carl’s truck. With a sigh followed by a yell out the window, he started his own truck up again. After a few minutes wait for that to fact to pass down the line, he pulled back onto the road. It was flat in every direction around here, with what barely seemed like a tuft of grass, let alone a tree. Dirt farms. What else was there to do but put a carnival on them? It wasn’t long before the rain started. Big drops. Not a lot of them, mind, but enough to make the dirt stick to everything. It also wasn’t long before the convoy was slowing. Carl’s truck was already stopped, and he and a couple of his rousties were ready to direct them off the road and onto what was probably once someone’s farm, then the bank’s useless land. Art wasn’t sure who it belonged to when they closed, and a lot of them had around these parts. But for now it belonged to them. Or would when someone ran into town and made a donation to the local authority. Men were jumping off trucks as the convoy crawled to the back of the lot. Carl was somehow already there doing some finer directing of the vehicles behind him. Art stopped his truck, hopped out of the cab and landed in the slightly wet dust. He had on a stained undershirt beneath his faded denim work overalls. His beat up boots almost completed the look, but it was the cap he grabbed from the cab of the truck on pulled on that really did it. He turned, intent on getting Management’s trailer sorted first, and found himself face to face with someone he’d never seen before. Already? Couldn’t give them a damn moment to get a thing or two set up first? Art’s face sprung to life though, and he offered the rube a friendly smile. “Just turned up, I take it?” |