My Children gave me a gorgeous orange canary for my birthday. All you see is a hundred miles of nothin. Blistering sun bakes your skin. Wind blasts sand into your eyes. The only shade is your pickup truck, and your only job is to tend the rig.
Men go crazy out here.
For this particular crew, boredom had been compounded by a flock of really pissed off buzzards. Every day for a week now, the birds had attacked the men as they worked. Last night, after one too many Coronas, chased with one too many shots of Tequila, they hatched a plot to get even with the birds. In the pickup bed they had wire, dynamite, and fuses. Back at the rig they watched the sky and waited.