On the Edge of Common Sense

It struck in late October like a plague of mustard gas.

It started with a trickle but then soon began to mass.

In pens and cattle alleys on the new receiving side,

The fall run was beginning and there was no place to hide.

The boss said, “Git’em processed, just as fast as they come in!

A crew’ll bring ’em to ya and then take ’em back again.”

So, K.T. got three cowboys and headed toward the shed,

“...