Summer with Uncle Bob (Patreon)

I don’t even know how many years ago I last saw uncle Bob. His small cattle farm in Oklahoma is like 30 hours drive away from Tacoma, and we couldn’t afford to fly, so the visits had been few and far apart. Now at least I am old enough to make the trip on my own. A three day greyhound bus trek down the west coast to LA and then inland through Phoenix to Tulsa. But even in my sleep deprived state there was no mistaking uncle Bob. He looked just as I remembered him, a caricature of a cattle farmer. Despite being my fathers younger brother, he looked way more imposing with his broad, rough body barely contained in his Levis jeans and Carhartt long sleeve shirt. And a John Deere cap on top it all off.

He picked me up at the bus station in his ludicrously oversized truck. Unlike in the coast states the wear showed he actually needed such a vehicle. He tossed my bags onto the flat bed and we jumped in for the 2+ hour drive to his farm. Although the sun was mercilessly shining at us, and the scent of cow, diesel, man and dashboard mixed, I was getting less tired. Bob appeared genuinely happy to see me, and wanted to know as much as he could about my life.

I told him about mum and dad, my sister, our home. I told him about the few friends I had, our interest for engineering and how we competed in robowars. I told him about school and what subjects I like and don’t like. How I excelled in math but never seem to get my growth spurt to do anything right in PE. I told him about the bullying that had gotten worse every year as my oppressors had outpaced me. I told him about beatings and the “accident” without witnesses that December that put me in hospital. I told him how my friends begun to stay away to avoid having an accident themselves, or be witness to one. I told him that his invitation to spend the summer with him was why I hadn’t killed myself.

- We haven’t seen much of each other, but we’re all family here. I want you to know that you can always call me if you want to talk. There will always be a bed waiting if you want to come down here and get away from everything. No one will bother you.

We shared a silent moment.

- But not this time! I can’t get away from a livestock farm for long. The only reason I could pick you up is because Tom and Sib expects you to pull your weight while here. I know it will feel like a punishment, but I’m not going to give you something you can't handle.

The farm was really two farms that had joined at some point. Bob and Cathleen lived on the larger of the farm houses, while Tomasz and Sbigniew, or Tom and Sib as everyone called them, lived in the smaller farm house at the opposite side of the farm. Both had immigrated from Poland. Sib had been a farmer there too, and Tom had been in the army.

It was late afternoon when we arrived at the farm. Tom, Sib and Cat had heard the truck approaching and were all gathered to greet us.

- So before we do anything else we have a little surprise for you.

Bob took the lead, walking us to a farm building. When we entered I realized that it was the slaughterhouse.

- We only use the abattoir for our own need. Everything we sell is trucked away live. I thought, we can’t have you kill a bully, but we can kill a bull. Cat and I thought it would do you good to have some grade A protein over the summer, so this is going to be your bull. I reckon we’ll get 400 lbs in cuts from it, so that’s how much meat per day, math wiz?
- Eh. 5 1/3 lbs per day I think.

I had never seen a bull being slaughtered before, and hadn’t really wished for it, but man was it interesting to see. They made it look so easy, keeping the bull calm up until the slaughtering bolt went into its brain. Then they all worked together to saw and cut the carcass down into pieces. Holy shit so much blood. Bob explained every part of the process and what kind of cut you could get from everything. I helped with putting the pieces in boxes or vacuum seal it in plastic. Though a lot of work remained, mincing and cutting larger pieces into smaller, everything was boxed away in three hours.

Cat went to the house to cook dinner while Bob and I scrubbed down the room and all equipment. When we joined her in the house I was told that I had the entire upper floor for me. Cat and Bob only really used the lower floor. She had put my bags in a large bedroom. I had a quick shower, dressed nice and joined in for dinner. There I was presented with a deep fried dish called Rocky Mountain Oysters. I had never heard of it before, but it was delicious. Cat and Bob had chicken. She said she was on a diet and Bobs doctor had told him he needed to eat less red meat.

- Easy for him to say. I have price winning prime plus beef all around me. If you think I won’t join you a few times for steak you don’t know me.

It wasn’t until after I had finished Cat laughed and told me that Rocky Mountain Oysters were deep fried bulls balls, from the bull we just slaughtered. Well, it tasted good! We then said goodnight and I looked forward to my first real nights sleep in three days.

It felt like no time at all had passed when Cat woke me.

- Good morning. Breakfast is about ready, so throw on some clothes and come down.

Breakfast was a bucket load of oatmeal porridge with cubed apples, almond and cinnamon.

- Eat it all up, dear. You’ll need it.

And boy was she right. When Bob had said that I would have to pull my own weight, I didn’t think he was literal. I didn’t know there were so many things needing pushing, pulling and lifting on a farm. By lunch, steaks and mash by the way, I was exhausted. By dinner time, grilled hunk of meat with grits, I was more sore than I had ever been before. Cat didn’t accept my first attempt to shower before dinner.

- You have to use cold water, otherwise you’ll trap the smell of cattle in the pores.

Cold shower it was. It kind of felt good on my aching muscles, and was refreshing. That was short lived, though, because right after dinner I felt fatigue setting in and collapsed in bed for another dreamless night.

When Cat woke me the next morning I was in pain. Every part of me was in agony.

- Oh, you poor thing. I’ll get you something to sooth you.

She went away and came back with a big, green tub of goo. As soon as she opened the tub the room filled with the smell of mint and eucalyptus. She took a piece of cloth, dipped it into the goo, and started to apply on my back. It wasn’t like any pain relief cream I had ever felt before. It started with the same icy-hot feeling, but then it built and just kept on building until the feeling was worse than the muscle pain. Cat rubbed it in everywhere I had complained about before, and I didn’t want to back out now. Once she was done I had a look at the tub. “Equine muscle pain relief” it said. It was made for horses!

- Someone smells extra fresh.

Bob quipped during breakfast. He pushed me as hard as the day before, and I never complained about sore muscles again.

The days settled into a familiar pace. Porridge, work, meat, work, meat, sleep. But the work itself was varied, with a thousand and one different things that needed to be done, and it was getting more and more bearable. Partly because I was getting better at how to do things, but partly because I was getting stronger. I had never thought of getting inside a gym, but perhaps it had been silly to wish for a growth spurt without doing anything for it. Well, it looked like it had arrived, because by the second week I needed new jeans and shoes, and my shirts, while stretchy, would soon need replacing as well. Sib handed me some old clothes that he had outgrown.

As I started to get a grip on things, learn how things work, and have the stamina to complete a day without collapsing, I started to have more time to do other things. Tom had purchased all the weapons he was trained on in the Polish army and practiced at least once a week, and he was happy to teach me how to shoot.

Sib invited me over to their house one evening. Tom and Sib had each half of the top floor as their private space and shared the downstairs. To my surprise, in one of the shared rooms was a full home gym.

- Why do you have a gym? Don’t you work out enough as it is?
- When workink, you do what you must. When workink out, you do what you can.

He then started to show me some of the exercises. Despite all my hard work on the farm, and doing very light exercises with Sib, I woke up sore in completely new places the day after. It became my new routine to go to Sib every second evening and do a half hour workout with him.

Tom, not wanting to be outdone, added various combat exercises. And not just kicking and boxing the sand bag in their gym. We could be loading hay in the middle of the day and he would start charging me screaming “TAKE ME DOWN!”. He would usually come out on top, but some times I would get him. “Kurva! You did good.” he would say.

Bob didn’t have much time for things outside of work, but one day, with only a few weeks left of my stay, he took me to a small lake an hour away to fish. Usually my dad and I would go fishing in the summer in Washington, and I’m sure Bob knew that, so it felt extra special to me. Like a trip with a second father. It was a really nice day, hot enough for clothes to be optional, but not scorching. It was also nice to get out of the work clothes, put on some shorts and pretend to be a teenager on summer vacation.

We were standing in silence with our rods, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the still water. I realized that no one would recognize me. I barely did so myself, especially not after Cat had taken the hair clippers and given me a tight buzz. I had been so caught up in everything that I’d seen all the small changes but somehow missed the huge transformation. How could I be this tall, broad and muscled in just two months? Bob probably guessed my thoughts when he saw me lowering my rod and staring at my reflection.

- You’re a clever boy. I thought you would had it figured out by now?
- What figured out?
- It’s the beef. We inject the calves with Monsanto Taurus. It’s a genetically engineered growth hormone. Builds muscle like crazy. By the time they are slaughtered it’s out of the system though.
- So how….?
- The bull we slaughtered for you were injected two days earlier. Enough time for it to activate fully and spread into all muscle tissue, but not enough to break down.

It was clear that this was an important talk for Bob. He wanted to come clean with what he had done and he wanted my approval. Hell, if I wanted I could probably send him to jail. I looked at him and then back at my reflection. I had never really dared to think about my dream body, but if I had it would have been the summer tanned, hard muscled body looking back at me from the lake. This evening I will practice choke holds with Tom. What else can I wish for? Straight A:s and a million dollars? There was only really one answer I could give him.

- Moo.

We were done with all the good byes, at least so I thought. Just as I was about to walk to the bus, Bob handed me an envelope full of money.

- Whaa… What is that for?
- Two and a half months of hard work. You’ve earned every dime.
- Should I really carry this much?
- You still don’t get it, do you? No one will fuck with you.

He brings me in for a hug.

- Anyway, you need to buy clothes you can actually fit in. Do something nice for your mother also.
- I will.
- And tell my brother he’s a weak ass.
- I can’t do that!
- He’s not gonna stop you.

Read epilogue in Code to Uncle Bob.
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