Log:Mud and Cows

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Mud and Cows

A Slice of Life


Lux as ST and Dima


Dima helps a touristy couple out of a jam



It is only just outside Town that this situation finds itself. It has rained heavily recently in this side of the country, and the mud is thick - Very thick. The cows and the pigs love it of course. This road has a couple of gravel driveways that snake off it into the distance. And it is here, at one of those driveways that a scene is developing.

"Are we free yet?" A whiney female voice sounds over the edge of a small car with rental plates. It is stuck in a mud bank off the edge of one of the driveways, deep ruts having been chewed by tires spinning uselessly in the mud.

"No," replies a slightly on edge male voice. "We are not free." The source of the voice comes from a man, already muddy up to his elbows, trying to get something under the tires to give it something to grip onto to get them out. The dirt is like soup in his hands as he tries to get -anything- under there.

"Can you go any faster?" the woman asks.

Dima fears no mud, for Dima has his van. An old Soviet-built UAZ that survived much more than simple bad roads. Compared to the ones back in Russia, this track might as well be built by the Swiss. The precision required was going into the work done by the driver, wheels churning as it conquered the muck with ease. The incredibly loud music heralding it's approach was just for fun, though, radio clicking off as the van stopped behind the couple.

"You got problems, chuvak?"

A balding man in his late 30's pops his head out from behind the vehicle at the Dim'a prounoucement. "Huh? What? No, thats Ok, thank you. We're fine."

Of course this prompts a blistering string of curses from him as the simple act causes him to slip into the mud, going face first down into the mucky substance. The faint smell of cow shit lingers there too.

The woman lights up, wearing far to little clothing for this weather - she must be a tourist, and one from the south. "Oh! Yes! Hello! My name is Jennifer, can you help us get free?"

"Jenn," the man says as he extracts himself from the mud. "It's ok. I can get us out of here in a moment."

Jenn is having none of that. "You're parents are gone for the week, our flight out of Montpilier is going to be hard to catch unless we get out in the next half an hour or so... and you're filthy." She turns back to Dima. "What's your name?"

Dima chuckles when the man falls, already stepping out of his van to try and help him up. When he gets up on his own, the slav steps back to survey the damage. "Ay, cyka. How you do this?" He sucked on his teeth before nodding at the woman, giving her a toothy smile. "Dima. And Dima will help." Moving around back to open the van, he hastily moves an assault rifle under a crate to not provoke alarm. Then he looked back, realized that the woman wasn't looking at much of /anything/, and went back to getting out his ropes. These people were hopeless. "That automatic, man?"

The man, now trying to remove mud from his clothing and his face sighs. "Yeah. It is." He says finally. "I'm Richard," he's about to offer a hand before he thinks better of it, pulling the mud covered appendange back. "Thanks for the help."

Jenn grins widely, a rather beautiful smile. Richard is perhaps dating a few notches above his means. "Rick's parents hosted us for a bit, and they own the farm over there," she says helpfully pointing down the long and windy gravel driveway. A farmhouse is indeed in the distance.

Dima fished out his hook and a heavy chain, going to attach to the front bumper. He gave Jenn a rather fetching smile as he walked by. He wasn't trying to, but he just happened to have a rather good one. As he walked by, he glanced into the car. Automatic. Alright. "Okay. Here is what we do. I put hook on car, drive van /there/-" He pointed in front of the car. "You get in, put in second, give power /slow/, yeah? Should free car." Getting to work, he gave the farmhouse an appreciative nod. "Is good place. Where you from?" He'd been in America long enough to pick up some of the accents, and theirs seemed out of place.

Richard nods, gets in the car. Jean follows suit, flashing another smile toward Dima and ... was that a wink? "We're from Pennsylvania." Jean says, leaning forward slightly in the open window. "It's pretty good, Pittsburgh. At least if you live in the suburbs like we do." Richard doesn't seem to notice, poor fool, but the sound of her giving him an earful regarding his smell and the cleaning fee they'll have to pay on the car drifts out after he gives the thumbs up that he's ready to go.

Of course, things aren't always perfectuly easy. Right about then about half a dozen cows show up. They drift over the small rise the car is stuck against and start to crowd around it. They are quite in the way of being able to pull the car out. At least, not without making hamburger.

"Ah. Peets-borg. Sounds like good place." It...really didn't. Dima was in no place to judge given his origins, so he smiled anyway. He'd seen enough old sitcoms to know what the suburbs were, which explained some things. The girls were strange there, he had heard, which also explained the wink. He countered with one of his own, on reflex more than anything else. It was good to see a wink that didn't signal extreme violence.

He's just about to get into his van when the cows show up, the driver experimentally honking the horn. Nothing. He looked around for a farmer. Nothing. Blyat. Dima opened the door as far as the creatures would allow, making it over to the back of the truck. "Okay, moving cows. Eh. Get in car. Close ears and eyes." There are few things like a Kalashnikov getting fired into a berm to move cows. One shot for spooking, second for running. Just like home.

Jenn and Rick are completely flaberghated when the AK-47 appears and even more surprised when he fires it off into the air. Maybe Rick's parents own guns - probably a bunch - but a true automatic rifle is not something the city girl and her turned into a city boy boyfriend have every seen. Belatedly they clamp their hand over their ears. Rick's eyes are wide and Jenn is babling about something along the lines of 'ohmygodohmygodwe'regonnadie"

The Cows however, are indeed spooked and before long have moved off.

Dima turns back to the car, smiling in satisfaction at his work before he realizes these people were terrified for some reason. He slid the AK back into the van, walking over and knocking politely on the window. "You okay? is just gun. Legal, no worries, yes? You see these things out here, is normal." He gave a double-thumbs-up before turning to get his van into position, humming a Russian folk tune as he did.

The disbelieving face on Rick tells that he certainly does not believe it to be legal. But this is Vermont, home of the Libertarians and ... it's not like he has any other choice in the manner.

Jenn, meanwhile, has gone pale and decided not to be flirty with the big russian anymore.

When Dima get's the van going, Rick is slow on the gas. And with a little work the car manages to get free. With just a wave of thanks, Rick suddenly guns it careening the little rental car down the road toward Montpilier as fast as the little foreign aluminium thing can go.

"Ay, Urod, need to get the chai-" Oh. Well, they just figured that out. Dima gathered up the chain and his new front bumper, mumbling something about crazy people and picket fences. Suburb people did not understand how to solve problems. The driver slammed the back doors shut, looking around for a moment before climbing inside. The roar of hardbass split the quiet as he went careening down the road, smiling like a madman.