“You can’t just walk around using your hand as a testicle vice at will, S!”
J appeared drunk as she bobbed and wove in front of her friend’s face, sweat running down her forehead and into her eyes as she chucked another shovel-head of earth out and over her right shoulder.
“Are you even listening to me, S?”
S wasn’t listening; she was instead, absorbing the things that were coming out of J’s mouth.
“Fine, at least dig, then…it’s hot out here; the buzzards are coming.”
J pointed a pterodactyl-like finger past S’ head, aimed high on the horizon, whereupon a kettle of the grotesque, awkward carrion birds slowly descended through a clear, hot sky towards the spot where the girls dug. With her other hand, she handed S the shovel she’d been digging with and went to the trunk to get another one, so as to speed this undertaking along.