"Hello, My name is Well"

Dear Readers,

I am "the well" here at the Quilty Chick Ranch. The, exceptionally stinky, queen of the ranch is inside right now sitting on her hind side, guilt free of course, as she sees this "no water" thing as a perfectly legitimate excuse to do nothing.

This morning the inept homeowners thought they could go buy a new part and I would magically work again. Unfortunately that was not the case. When their feeble, although $180, attempt at fixing me did not work they then had to call in the big guns. Indeed "the well man" was called.

While the queen of the ranch was inside tossing her cookies into the waterless toilet (she better get her lazy arse back over to the neighbor's faucet with her water buckets) the well man came and stuck his ear up to me and heard water running. He then said there was a pipe broken inside of me so he would be back with his big trucks to pull me up and fix my pipe.

The homeowners were, somewhat, relieved by this lesser of two evils diagnosis. At least they do not have to replace the pump or the motor.

I am sure the original author of this blog will be back shortly to show all of the gory pictures of me in my nekkid state as I am pulled out of the ground. She is so oddly drawn to all manners of ridiculousness.

Stop perusing this blog while you are still sane. Please, for your own safety.

Sincerely,
The Well

P.S. I thought 11am was too early for shots of Tequila...but who am I to judge the stinky queen of the ranch? I am just an expensive well.