Monday, April 25, 2016

The village, as I’ve often suggested, is a cesspool. A couple of families of indifferent incomes, mostly government subsidies, are fairly well known. It’s just their visible activities are usually taken with a grain of salt, of necessity.

I mention this because it is one way to introduce the subject of – well, theft. The village has a nick name, also. It’s a play on the village name and it isn’t pretty. Anytime, within a fifty mile radius, I mention where I live the fellow I’m speaking with will say something along the order of “Oh, xxxxxx.”

It is depressing.

I’ve written that the village is currently (since the first of April) been getting a new water system under a State program to up-grade the smaller villages round about.

The contractors started their project on time. They brought in two trailer houses as a central office and small equipment storage shed. They got busy.

Less than two weeks into the job they knocked off for the day and went to their motels. We don’t have the infrastructure here in the village to house them, nor feed them.

They came back the next morning and found the door locks and door knobs sawn out. Doors weren’t busted, just a circular hole where the knob and lock should have been.

Taken were several pieces of very expensive equipment; GPS locators of specialized usage, diamond bladed concrete cutter and other stuff  of critical use to the project; including complete tool boxes and tools.

A good result, other than the contractors motivating the sheriffs office, was the increased police presence in the village. They have rooted out several small drug gathering places they were not aware of, and have stopped and grounded several of the non-licensed teens tht loved the midnight hours with no lights and four wheelers. They’ve also confiscated two motor cycles, used for the same midnight hours.

All of which, I suppose, will result in even more heartfelt “Oh, xxxxx.”

_______

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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