Friday, January 13, 2017

Notice the date? A Phobia day.  I’m not sure which one and am too lazy to google the answer. But I’m sure it is one of those days.

Yesterday started Wednesday evening. It did.

I was sitting here in the ratty middle management chair, half asleep, fending off Dog’s entreaties to go out, when the phone rang.

Totally unexpected.It gave me a jolt and a tingle up my leg, you understand. Slightly envigorating to say the least.

“Yes,” I said. I always answer  the phone that way. As I’ve explained before, you called me and I responded. That’s only polite.

“Ten, it’s Renter’s Wife.”

“Yes. Yes.”

“We have weather coming in. Ice and more ice. If you need groceries you’d better get some. Renter is going to El Dorado to pick up the mule.. You could ride along with him and pick up what you need on the way home. You pay the best prices in the village, and the Dillon Store has bargings and bargains’ all you need to do is go to their site and enlarge the pictures and . . .”

“Renter Wife. Do you ever breathe?”


“Do you ever breathe? You’ve over loaded my hearing apparatus. Slow down, one subject at a time and carry on.”

“Oh. Okay. Tomorrow the truck comes in. They will be dropping off about two thousand pounds of food for the food pantry. You want to help unload the truck and store the fppd and then hand it out when we open in the afternoon.”

“Ah.  What time will the truck arrive?”

“Oh, Renter can pick you up and take you down to the truck, you understand. He’s taken the day off  from work and after you unload the truck you can ride along with him and get the mule.”

You can  hear some snake oil sales man in all of that can’t you?

I mean, I did.

But I said, “What the hell. Let’s see what this is all about. I said okay.”

And there by screwed my Thursday day all to by-golly.

I ended the “help unload the truck” being the one to unload the pallets in the wind and ten degree weather, hoisting the pacages onto the slide down to the basement storage areas. They had three men down there.

Then I found out that we had seven hundred pounds of potatoes to unload.

Thoughts of pleading old age, infirmities and down right laziness raced through my mind. Then I found out we had also gotten twenty cases of apples.

Food Banks are run by Nu-tra Systems of weight loss.

I’ve rethought the seven dollar fee ATT charges for caller ID. I think I’ll have it re-installed in my phone and never, ever, answer Renters Wife’s calls again.

And, Yeah. We did get the mule back.


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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