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Country farming with Gloria Green


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Pride

Legion Square was hosting Pride this year in Los Santos and Gloria was not going to miss it. After working on the farm she dashed to clean up and drive into the city. Stopping at a clothes store not far from the Square she puzzled on what to wear. Gloria had never been to a pride event before but knew bright colours were needed. She settled on a short dress adorned in illustrations of desserts. Parking her trusty truck, Betsy, she made her way into the heart of the Pride celebrations. The place was bustling with a diverse range of people bathed in bright light and surrounded by rainbow coloured umbrellas and hearts. Navigating the crowd, she made her way onto the illuminated dance floor, My Japanese Boy by Aneka playing. The number of dancers doubled as the night progressed, tired from the mass of moving bodies and the powerful lights, the farm girl swapped the dance floor for the refreshment stand. A can of soda later and she was back to boogieing the night away to celebrate Los Santos gay residents and culture.

 

Thanks to the LGBT Community for making this celebration possible.   

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Edited by AbigailGreen
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Every one makes mistakes

A warm breeze whistled through the gap between Betsy's frame and open window. Gloria tapped the wheel, whilst Miss Dolly Parton's soothing tones filled Gloria's ears and mixed with the crackling of tires spinning on dirt road. Movement in the road caught her off guard and before she could react, a thud. Slamming the breaks, knowing it was to late, made memories of bloody wool reservice. Exiting her truck, she eyed the motionless bundle in the middle of the road. The rabbit's glassy eyes stared skyward. The little guy was gone, even if he wasn't, she was.

 

Pulling up slowly to Paleto liquor store, Gloria fumbled with her keys, hands trembling. Once she was in the store she purchased five cans of Patriot and proceeded to drain them. Across Paleto she stumbled to start her shift at the gas station. She had taken on some shifts to subsidise her pay from the farm.Once at her post, the last beer was quickly finished off. Images of Betsey's tires crushing the rabbit and a sheep hanging off a Land Rovers bonnet melded together. 

 

A raspy voice called her name and through the thick boozy murk, Gloria lifted her head. A muscular male figure straddled a motorbike beside the gas pumps. Slurred, she greeted the figure with suspicion and asked how they knew her name. Flipping his helmet visor, John made himself identifiable. The two had met only the previous night and now in the cold light of day, Gloria was stood swaying, face red from drinking and muttering about dead bunnies. Mortified by her appearance and by Betsy's betrayal, she broke down sobbing, knees to the asphalt.  

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