Rated H for hokey
It’s the 1850s gold rush on the western frontier. Dirt farmer Hosea (subtle reference to the Biblical Hosea) asks God to send him a wife. Dirt farming must be really profitable: Hosea lives in a spacious open-plan wooden farmhouse with a huge matching barn. His free-range sheep never get lost or eaten by wolves. Even his garden thrives without a fence to keep out hungry critters. God must be all-in on Hosea.
So it comes as a nasty shock when God points out Hosea’s future wife, a prostitute named Angel (subtle reference to an angel). She’s in such high demand that Madam Duchess raffles off her services to horny gold prospectors.
Hosea: Howdy, ma’am. I want to buy a session with Angel.
Duchess: Why should I sell you a session for $5 when I can get $70 with the raffle?
Hosea: I’ll pay you $10.
Hosea: Howdy, miss. I’m just a humble dirt farmer sent by God to rescue you.
Angel: If you’re just a humble dirt farmer, how come your clothes are so clean?
Hosea: I’m far from perfect. You should see my underwear.
Spoiler alert! Well, on second thought, you knew this was coming: Hosea takes sullen, cynical Angel back to his dirt farm.
Angel: All right, let’s get this over with. (She flops onto the bed.)
Hosea: Oh, no, miss. I’m sleeping in the barn.
Angel: Are you gay?
Over time, with Hosea’s patient coaxing, Angel realizes the joys of slopping the pigs, mucking the horse stalls, and harvesting the dirt.
Angel: Oh, how I love being a farm wife!
I hope you weren't expecting anything profound.
If I ever need to plead insanity, this blog will provide valuable evidence.
Copyright (c) 2022 by Leah Carson, d/b/a Excellent Words, LLC