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Me and Brenda shoveling horse manure for her composter.
No longer counted
among the unemployed as our unemployment compensation benefits have been exhausted,
and it is assumed we have quit looking for work.
We haven't quit looking.
There's just nothing out there, in the high-tech, two-paycheck niche we once occupied.
We
weren't busted, just reverted to our permanent rank. Yardbird.
Not the chicken.
The lowest enlisted rank. Buck private.
Bucking for private. Picking up
cigarette butts on the drill field like a chicken pecking shit in a barnyard.