Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is quite confused by this creature that roams Hillmomba. The creature called Farmer H. How it has survived for over five decades is a mystery to her. She would think such a creature might have perished without constant assistance from people so kind as herself. The Farmer H can scarcely remember to breathe in/breathe out. In fact, it buries its head under a quilt each night, and if not for the contraption called a BREATHER, it would, in fact, perish from lack of oxygen.
Imagine Mrs. HM's astonishment this noon when she discovered that the Farmer H has but a rudimentary understanding of the English language. She had just returned from The Devil's Playground and had barely stowed away her provisions. The Pony knew he would soon be conscripted into serving the Farmer H's construction commands, as soon as he was finished lovingly assisting Mrs. HM with her shopping duties. So Mrs. HM sent a text to the Farmer H (working at the BARn) in an effort to find out whether The Pony should report immediately for duty, or wait until after the Farmer H's feeding time. The text went exactly like this:
"Did you have lunch? Just asking. Nothing here but bologna or hot dog."
See what she did there? Mrs. HM sent a text that only required a YES or NO answer. So that The Pony could trot out to help, or go downstairs for gaming until his presence was requested. Sometimes, while in town, Mrs. HM will text and ask if the Farmer H desires any foodstuffs to be picked up for his midday meal. But this was not the case. She let it know right off that nothing had been broughten. But the Farmer H answered that text in a striking exhibition of self-centeredness:
"I would eat a couple dogs."
See there? Quite presumptuous of the Farmer H to assume that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is on call to cater to its every peckish desire. Does a creature of its years not understand how to provide for itself? Can it not toss a couple of dogs into the microwave with two handles, set the timer for 30 seconds, and pull two buns out of a bag? Nowhere did Mrs. HM offer to make the Farmer H's lunch. That would have been something like, "Did you eat yet? I can make you a bologna sandwich or a hot dog." But she did not. She assumed (and look what happened) that the Farmer H was capable of keeping itself alive in her absence.
The Farmer H may have eaten for a day. But it will not eat for a lifetime. Unless that lifetime is not much more than a day.
2 comments:
I am sad to say that I understand. So very sad. He Who cannot even put his own medications together. I do it for him. He would not survive long without me. I do 3 weeks ahead for him and two for me, this is to prevent him from running to me with an empty pill sorter, looking as if it was the end of the world. Poor creatures, it really is sad.
Kathy,
Yes, Farmer h is always talking about how he's fairly well prepared to survive after the Apopadopalyspe. I have to point out that when his thirty days of meds are gone, he's a goner.
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