Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Outside of dra-mama screwing with all kinds of illegal activities and getting away with them, how’s your day going.

The contractor has arrived. The first thing he wanted was to ‘look’ the job over, to plan he said. So, up the stairwell he went and let out a howl, and a small cuss word. He’d run a six inch splinter into the palm of his hand.

That was kinda funny, really, except when he hauled out a pocket knife and started whittling on his hand. Several cotton balls and four teaspoons of alcohol later he pronounced himself fit for work.

Watching him cut that splinter from his palm roiled my stomach.

Prior to that I’d gone out to Christmas shop for groceries. Things went well there for sometime, like until check out time. Put half a basket of heavy stuff up on the belt and the computer went down. Moved all the stuff back into the basket and moved check out isles. Second computer crashed.

Tried a third and it worked. While checking out a real live bird flew around the store and landed on the register I was at and then flew away again.

I’m not sure what’s with that grocery and me, but half my entertainment seems to happen on shopping trips to that single store.

No. No, I don’t know if the bird graced any of the groceries. It flew over the produce and meats several times. I had all my stuff in plastic prior to the advent of the bird and was clean.

Pity the first housewife that reaches for a lettuce or apples and grabs a handful of bird doo.

_____

From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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