Show Notes
Howdy Belters. Y'all been waiting on this one longer than I meant for you to. There's a thin line between building suspense and just--y'know--disappearing. Fair certain that I can't see it from here, and I apologize for it. Hopefully, the tale of Milo Grigg and his Black Contract are enough of an apology to make us square.
More from Dead Belt: True Tales of the Gasping Frontier
You know, I hate to hear about folk on the float turning on each other when the turning of the verse gets cruel. But I sometimes love a good balancing of the scales. This one's a bloody tale of revenge. Bless y'all's heart.
This here's a big fish story I got from Harlan "Dusty" McGraw, the oldest Gashound I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Now, I typically discount the kind of stories that Dusty tells me out of hand when they come from anyone else, but I learned young and well to listen to folks who grow old in professions where most folk die young. Maybe y'all should, too.
Y'all may not know it, but I've got a job out here beyond just jawing. I'm not necessarily a search and rescue kind of guy, but every so often I gotta work for a living. And when I gotta work for a living, y'all best believe someone is having a bad day. I had misgivings about making this one public, but I think maybe y'all want to hear about a baby Belter having a rough day.
You know, the best thing about a Corp Job is that it ends. Unless it don't. Take a lesson from Doctor Addison Kincaid, formerly of Kilgore Mining. And once again of Kilgore Mining. Y'all read your contracts twice.
Been a long while. Hopefully y'all have been keepin' on in the same manner in which I left you. Cause out here, things do have a tendency to get worse.