A writing exercies- Ruined by Age and Decomposition

On Tuesdays I join a handful of silly, country women who write because they want to. Not one of them has hopes to be published, those whimsical desires are long gone.  They just write.

When we begin our 2 hour sessions, the leader of the pack draws a random phrase from an old ranchers hat and we write for 20".  This week the topic was "Ruined by Age & Decomposition."  Here's what my muses cranked out:

     "Crusty sawed off,"  Matt spit.  "He's got nothin' left in him to give."
     Matt turned his back and beckoned for Lady with a sharp whistle.  She obliged, but twisted her head back to offer Matt's father a reassurring plea.
     The radio blared before the door slammed.  Matt twisted the knob up to twist it off.  His lack of control for the simplest actions made him more angry, more desperate.  He pushed the gas with a heavy tap & thought for a moment, "Shit! Is it in drive?"
     He should have been looking down at the steering column or back, down the drive, but he was looking in the eyes of a man who'd written off Life too many years ago.
     Lady whined for the window and Matt responded lightly- grateful he wasn't hardened  yet.  A string of simply injustices filled his mind.  What would be the final blow?  What unfair act would put him over the edge and cause his soul to rot and decompose?
    Matt's father waited until the truck cleared the next turn, and he waited a bit more.  He stepped on the spit mark and twisted his boot.  He thought about the day his son was born and the day he died.  He tucked his hat over his brow.  He didn't need to see the path with his eyes; he knew the count. 
     He reached for the screen door and touched the broken points that Matt tore decades before.  He called toward the kitchen for his bride.
     "No supper, no time tonight, Lovey".
     He shuffled his damp, white socks toward the bed and removed his teeth.
     "These sheets are clean.  Thanks Lovey."
     The room was quiet.
     "It's been a long time since we shared this bed".
     He turned toward her pillow, shifted his weight so that he could lay where her impression should be.
     "Do you think our people will mind if I snore in heaven?"