Break out the confetti, prepare to toot those rolled-up paper horn-tooters, helium up some balloons, and everybody hide. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has a birthday coming up sometime this month. I shan't tell you the exact day. That would be a glaring invitation for some ne'er-do-well to steal Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's anonymous identity and besmirch her virgin credit rating.
Farmer H started quizzing me about what I want for my birthday this morning as he sat on the couch in an old orange T-shirt and pair of gray basketball shorts. I didn't even know he HAD a pair of gray basketball shorts. His normal attire is wide-man jeans with suspenders, overalls worn correctly or backwards (having been pulled on over his tiny feet already encased in work boots), or a pair of tighty-whities.
"What do you want for your birthday? I'll be gone that day, so I want to get something ahead of time. I'm tired of you saying I never give you anything. I like anything you give me. I'm easy to shop for. But you're not."
"First of all, what are you doing in shorts? It's twenty degrees. There's a layer of ice on everything. You look ridiculous. And you like anything I give you because I'm a fantastic gift-giver."
"I'm going to take down the Christmas tree. That's why I put on shorts."
"Oh, of course. How silly of me. Everybody puts on shorts to take down the Christmas tree."
"Then The Pony and I are going to town to get your presents. I'll put on pants for that."
"I don't know of anything I want. Save the money. I told you I like little notebooks, but you didn't get me any for Christmas. So I'm telling you now, so you won't get me any for my birthday."
"You don't want jewelry, you don't want clothes. You're hard to buy for."
"Little notebooks and lottery tickets. That's all I need. And when you start home from town, bring me a 44 oz. Diet Coke today."
"I don't know what tickets you like."
"Here. I'll show you on my laptop."
"Pony! Come look at these lottery tickets so we can buy the right ones."
"I can't buy lottery tickets! I'm not old enough!"
"I KNOW that. But you can remember what kind. You can go in with me and tell me. Can I put them on the debit card?"
"Uh...I guess they'll take a debit card for lottery. I've never seen anybody use one for that. But I guess it's money as good as any other."
"I'll just get cash back at The Devil's Playground. Is that okay?"
"Yes. Just tell me how much you put on the debit. So I don't have to call the automated system and find out you've used the card and not told me. Like always."
Farmer H dressed himself, and he and The Pony took off for town after two false starts. I suggested he take The Pony's truck, or at least his $1000 Caravan, because of the ice. His Pacifica gets about as good traction as Bambi on a frozen lake. They came back in twice. Farmer H wanted The Pony to crawl through the back hatch of the Caravan to start it up and let the ice coating melt off so they could get the doors open. They couldn't open the hatch. Then they tried The Pony's truck. Same thing. That led to a pitcher of hot water being poured on the doors. But only when they returned from town. Farmer H gave up and took the Pacifica to town. I would have lent him my T-Hoe, but if he wrecks that, I'm homebound. I detest driving other members of our fleet. I suggested that he take his Ford F-250, the one that just had $900 worth of work, and now sits like a sentry in the BARn field, never being driven. Farmer H was kind enough to remind me that the same ice problem affecting Pony Truck and Caravan would also hinder his entry into F-250. Oh.
So...a couple hours later, the hunter-gifters returned. With my 44 oz. Diet Coke. I asked The Pony what he wanted me to make for lunch. "Oh, we had Burger King on the way home."
"WHAT? Did you bring me something?"
"No. We didn't know you wanted anything."
I turned to Farmer H. "So you didn't think to bring me anything?"
"I brought your soda."
"I called you to ask if you wanted Rally's last time we went. I always bring you something!"
"Oh. I guess I could have called. Besides, I don't even like Burger King. I had a fish sandwich. It wasn't very good."
"I'll bet you'd say it was better than something you had to find in Frig and heat for yourself in the one-element oven, or warm in the microwave."
"Yeah. I probably would. I just didn't think of it."
Anybody want to lay odds on whether I'll be getting my little notebooks for my birthday?
5 comments:
My bet? My bet is a song sung by Johnny Mathis. The title says it all. Can you guess the song?
I would have shot that man for sure today. Shoved him down one of those holes near the BARn. Oh! Wait, isn't there a septic tank close by? Of course, you could always make a tower of soup out of him and feed it to the animals. Then you could go buy a gas station chicken dinner and another 44 ouncer, share it with your Mom and gain $10.00. Uh oh, are all these stories fiction? Mine are...
Sioux,
I cannot guess the song! You have stumped the stumper. Do tell! However...I think you missed my Meat Loaf title from yesterday's post.
*****
knancy,
Sadly, my stories are not fiction. Though let the record show that I had nothing to do with the septic tank incident.
I must keep Farmer H out of the sinkhole, at least until he takes the broken spring off my garage door so I can get another one made, and then puts it back on. After that, he'd better sleep with his good eye open.
About your problem going back to previous posts...maybe it's because the month changed to February, and you have to click on January in the sidebar to go back for the whole kit 'n' caboodle?
HM--I KNEW it was a song (and I love Meatloaf) but I was too busy dreaming of a snow day this week to spend too much time figuring it out.
Johnny Mathis. The Twelfth of Never.
Sioux,
Well, Madam, that's just an admission of slacking. Anybody knows that if a dog pees in the road and it freezes, schools across Missouri will cancel. So sayeth the #1 son in a text this morning during his physics class, which, I might add, we are paying good money for.
Besides, it was even a Super Bowl commercial last year, with a roly-poly M&M refusing to be baked in a cookie. I find it hard to believe that you are not well-versed in M&M trivia.
I did not know Johnny Mathis sang The Twelfth of Never. My BFF Google and I are not as close as we once were. Thus I did not cheat with a consultation.
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