Coyote Ugly

The man grinned as he packed up his briefcase. "So, sir, you only need to consult the Bible instead of all this useless information in my encyclopedia set?"
"That's correct," said the homeowner, smiling dumbly.
"Well," said the sales rep., reaching out his hand in a conciliatory handshake, "Good luck with that."
As the salesman walked out and shut the screen door behind him, the resident couldn't help but feel there was a mocking tone in that last remark, as well as notice a rather sardonic smile. In fact, he thought he might have also heard muffled laughter as the other man walked off, every once in awhile, cupping his hand to his face.
Still, the man of the house straightened up confidently and thought, "Well, he couldn't say anything to that, could he now!"
He turned on the television. His present concern was the latest news, the most accurate, fair and balanced was of course, Coyote News.
"Yes, the conflict in Libya continues, and this President is certainly botching up this one as well," spoke a confident Caucasian news reporter, "We report; you decide."
"Libya," thought the man, "I've forgotten where that was."
So, he opened his Bible Atlas to see Libyan Desert right next to Egypt.
"That proves my point," beamed the householder.
"And," continued the news reporter, "a huge mega-tornado has hit the southern state of Alabama, demolishing it, and the President hasn't acted as swiftly and decisively as our man did with New Orleans. We report; you decide."
"Hmmm....Alabama...Where in the southern United States is that? Let's see...Tigris, Euphrates...Salt Sea...Maybe the guy means Ammon here?
That's kind of south."
The commentator went on to say, "Yes, the Tea Party-ers are simply trying to emulate the Boston Tea Party of 1773 when the colonists dressed up as Indians and tossed tea in the harbor over the British tea tax."
"Let's see," thought the man surveying the Bible Atlas once more, "this India that they're imitating seems a little ways away, farther east. Why would they want to dress up like those folks?"
"The astronauts are returning today," the newscaster continued.
"Well," said the man, "not a problem! That's in the Book of Ezekiel. Gee, I don't like the orders from the head astronaut here. Hope they're not in as foul a mood when they land!"
"I don't believe his policies are Constitutional. This policy is certainly against the Constitution!"
"Okay," thought the man, leafing through his Bible, "that must be Moses coming down from Sinai. Yup, he'd talked it over with Jethro, his father-in-law, and Jethro told Moses he couldn't do this governing without God's input. Wow, he doesn't follow the Ten Commandments?"
"We report. You decide," said the commentator.
"I'm not so sure on this one."
He looked at the salesman's card, lifted up the phone receiver and called the rep.
"I'm reconsidering getting your reference set."
"Never mind," said the rep., "I'm leaving this field to sell campaign signs to 'Bible scholars' like yourself. Encyclopedia sales is dying out. If you want to know some basics, check the internet."
From the other party's phone, he heard an abrupt,"click."

A Tree Grows Next Door

The deafening roar and the blast of wind surrounded the house. The wooden chimes banged against each other furiously. The tree across the yard stood strongly as the wind pelted it. The branch that could have come crashing down on the house from that distance had been sawed off, the result of a deal made with a previous next door neighbor.
Later on, under new ownership, branches groaned in time for the woman sitting in the yard to pull the Chow dog away and to run about frantically, wondering what to do.
Kevin, the owner in the nearby house, who'd made the previous deal, counseled her to call her husband, Ed.
Soon, the yard was filled with "tree people", saws noisily cutting up the fallen limbs, leaving a mess for the couple to clean up after heaving the lighter branches into their truck.
Ed approached Kevin as he stood on the porch.
"Can't figure out how that limb got sawed off. Do you know?"
"Have no idea," Kevin responded.
"Well," said Ed, "I'd get rid of the rest of it, especially that limb that could fall right over on your porch here. Just can't afford it."
"Oh, I think it would probably fall just short of it, like in your yard and driveway."
"Well, I can't afford to take care of it. Somebody must have seen fit to cut off the other one that was sure to have fallen on your roof. Any idea who?"
Kevin said he had none.
"It looks to me like this one could."
"Maybe," Kevin said unemotionally.
"You know what else I'd like to do?" Ed inquired.
"What?" said Kevin.
"How about I pave the driveway so it reaches your sidewalk? I'm pretty sure my property reaches that far anyway."
"You think so?," queried Kevin, "Feel free to measure it."
So Ed started measuring from the fence to the sidewalk. Each time, the measuring tape never quite measured 40 feet.
"Well," Kevin observed, "my wife says she wants to keep our sidewalk separate from your driveway."
"Oh, she does?" inquired Ed, "Tell her to think it over tonight. Maybe she'll change her mind."
"Don't think so," said Kevin.
"Gonna take my wife to Disney World," said Ed.
"Yeah, we been there."
"Really?" Ed asked, surprised, "Well, I'm going to build another story on our house for my wife."
"That so?" replied Kevin, "Well then, you'd better do something about that tree.
You wouldn't want a storm to come and a limb to fall on your house...once you've built it."

St. Paddy's Potluck Party

We spent St Patrick's Day at one of those superficial, artificial church groups of people. They were people pushed together, who had virtually nothing in common, created to compensate for a large church where anonymity was the general rule.
I felt we were intruding, even though we were guests.
I was put on the spot with questions like, "Since you're teaching in that district, are you part of the corruption the local news is reporting?"
To which, I replied, "No," and "you're taking the word of the new superintendent and her perspective."
A senior lady began to relate excitedly, the story of her recent trip to Hawaii, and the host disdainfully countered her with, "I already been there," cutting her off and walking away in a huff.
The men walked out on the veranda. My husband followed.
"Excuse me," said the host, "this is only for golfers."
"Surely, you don't mean that."
"Yes, I most certainly do."
That explained why my husband came back into the room.
The green beer was accessible to the hostess. Her husband, who had returned, took her into the corner to admonish her for her alcoholic behavior.
As we ate, the strawberries on her cake were, not surprisingly, rancid.
After which, she climbed upstairs, where her teen-age daughter and my ten-year-old one were playing at the computer.
The hostess took out her frustration on the dog.
"Sammi, I told you, over and over again, not to poop on the floor!"
I'd heard St. Paddy chased the snakes out of Ireland. That night, we walked away from them, never to return again to the mega-church.

A Mouse's Perspective

Standing under the lamp post, stood a large pink mouse with large ears, two dark eyes, and a round red nose with whiskers.
I should have been astonished, but it seemed, somehow, to fit the scenery. It was an ordinary February evening. By ordinary and February in the Midwest, I mean, the snow was piled high, perhaps about 20 feet, where people had blown snow or used vehicles, snowplows, that is.
I recall coming out of the building in the early afternoon and hearing a low howling sound. I thought, "What is that? A cat?" For I'd remembered hearing an inordinate yowling when I was young, that I could have sworn was a crying baby, and yet, it was a cat.
The snowplow, on its way across the street, stopped half way and moved back. Apparently, the "cat" was a large middle-aged woman who'd fallen behind her own car. The snowplow driver helped her up, and I inquired whether everything was okay. The problem appeared to be taken care of.
But, my evening visitor questioned my earlier experience.
"You showed good judgment."
"How so?"
"Your first thoughts were correct."
"How would you know my thoughts?"
"It was, in fact, a cat."
"No, it was a human, a woman."
"It was a cat, fair and square, and if you'd called 911, the feline would have sued you."
"Why?"
"Because of her cat nature. Cats are responsible for all the troubles of the world."
"Wouldn't you say you were a bit biased?"
"It's true. She would list your number as suspicious and take you to court. She would say you'd hit her."
"I hadn't even gotten into my car yet!"
"Just the same, she would do that," He stated, twitching his red nose and whiskers, "since she's a cat."
"I actually felt sorry for her, once I knew she was a lady in distress, I regretted not having helped her."
"Have no regrets. That was no lady."
I sighed in frustration.
The mouse tipped his hat, which I hadn't noticed he'd been wearing.
"Well, thank you for reassuring me that I'd done right after all. What's your name?"
"Mouse."
"That's logical." I replied, suddenly thinking that nothing else was logical about having a conversation with a large mouse under a lamp post.
"Yes," he said, as he twirled his cane, (something else I hadn't noticed), and walked off, "The cats are responsible for all the troubles of the world."

You Get What You Pay For

The $420,000 price tag on the ottoman, whose lid was misaligned, goaded her into action. How dare they charge for the set, that is, the couch and the ottoman, when the latter was in disrepair!
She had asked for a furniture repair person, who tried to deceive her within earshot of her husband, and the latter figured out the con. The rep said he couldn't do anything about it, because, well, once they're delivered, you're stuck with it, as is. With the male temper flaring in the next room, the so-called company representative, went into survival mode and made a beeline for the door. He'd been caught double crossing.
To think that this guy was going to try to pull the wool over her eyes, just because he figured she was a ditsy female; the reason? Female = ditsy, Ditsy = female.
Her adrenaline began to rise. Her face flushed. She could feel the heat rising on her cheeks, as she spat some expletives-deleted toward her husband, regarding how she was headed directly toward the furniture company to get justice. He admonished that it wasn't going to do any good, which made her even more determined.
She put her foot on the gas. Her lips formed a straight line, indicative of her furor. She affirmed, "The steps of a good woman are ordered by the Lord, and she prospers in her way", several times. (Admittedly, this passage-Ps. 37:23-had been amended from the original script.)
By the time she got to the furniture store, a memory of a lady came to her. The lady had told the story that when she was pregnant, she got up on a stool at the department store and protested a raw deal, drawing onlookers. So, she too, got up on a stool in front of God and everybody at the furniture store customer service counter and loudly proclaimed that the clown they'd sent pulled a fast one, and they'd better make good by supplying her with a new identical ottoman, if they couldn't fix this one.
"Ma'am, please, please stop," he pleaded in embarrassment, "it's just a piece of furniture!"
"It's not just a piece of furniture when you charge $420,000 for the set and give me a defunct ottoman!"
"Okay, okay, we'll make sure to come through with an exchange. Just please, please, settle down, and stop making a scene!"
Not surprisingly, another female customer had been standing in line, due to another similar ripoff. Discussion between disgruntled females followed.
So she exited the place, quietly repeating, "The steps of a good woman are ordered by the Lord, and she prospers in her way!" She put her foot on the accelerator and sped off.
The old ottoman was exchanged for a new one in a matter of a couple of days.
You get what you pay for...if you persist.