Wednesday's Words on a Friday

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.

This month the words are once again supplied by Delores and can be found here.

This week's words are: 
1. hitch
2. quack
3. curtains
4. deplorable
5. mundane
6. ravelled

and/or:

1. split
2. friendship
3. tracked
4. porch
5. intrepid
6. spunk

Here is my story:

"Hitch up those pants young man, you're not in the big city now. Here in *Tradesfair, we wear our pants so our underpants don't show. I gotta tell ya, them city folks have got some deplorable habits."
"It's just a fashion trend Grandpa, everyone wears their pants like this."
"Everyone who hangs around in gangs on street corners without a job to go to. I can't see any respectable boss hiring someone who only has one hand to work with because the other hand is holding up his pants."
"Whatever," muttered Joel. "Can we go now?"
"Sure, sure. As soon as you hitch up them britches. You need me to run across to the store and get you a belt?"
"I don't know how much money I've got, Mum said not to open the envelope until I get to your house."
"I can pay for a belt son, come on over the road with me, you can wait on the porch if you don't want to go inside, buying a belt is a pretty mundane happening, might not be as exciting for you as whatever you'd be doing in the city," said Grandpa with a twinkle in his eye. 

Joel followed his Grandpa across the dusty street, noticing the curtains twitching in the houses on either side, knowing the townspeople were watching the newcomer, there'd be gossip for sure around dinner tables tonight.

"I think I'll come inside the store Grandpa, maybe I could choose my own belt, or a pair of 'farmer style' braces," said Joel, wanting to get away from the eyes. "That's not a bad idea," said Grandpa. "But if you get a belt there's a range of fancy belt buckles you can switch around with. Plain ones for everyday, fancier and bigger ones for special occasions."
"What special occasions?" Joel grumbled. "We're in the middle of nowhere here! I tracked the railway on the map Mum showed me and *Tradesfair isn't any bigger than a pencil dot."

"Pencil dot huh?" said Grandpa. "Well, this pencil dot has a little more spunk than you think. We have a rodeo once a year, there's a church social for the young folks to meet and dance at, people have birthdays and weddings, with the appropriate parties, and there's births and funerals too."

"And this is what Mum unravelled my life for? A dusty town with a dozen houses, a store and a pub? Everyone else lives way out in the fields and it probably takes a half a day just to get in here and buy a carton of milk! She split up my friendship with Donny Brook so I could go to some church social instead?"

"The way I hear it, that friendship was going to get you in trouble," said Grandpa. "With his Dad being the local quack and young Donny planning to steal some of them drugs to sell. You're better off away from him, you'll come to see that in time Joel."
Joel muttered something under his breath and followed his Grandpa into the store.

"Speak up there boy! And just for your information, we don't come all the way into town to buy milk. We go out back every morning and evening and milk the cow for that."

"Noooo!" an anguished cry from Joel as he rolled his eyes. He hated animals, had never even had a pet.

* Tradesfair is a fictional town that grew in my head at an intersection where a fair was held biannually for people to trade goods.