Sunday, May 15, 2016

Do As He Wants, Not As He Says Is Cheating

Farmer H went to get a haircut Friday night. That's his story, and he's stickin' to it. Even though he has never gone in the evening for a haircut before. AND he came home an hour or so late, and told a tale he heard from A WOMAN at the barber shop. Seriously. Why would a WOMAN go to a barber shop? Methinks he is not a very good liar, showing little attention to detail. Or perhaps this is part of his spy training, to throw people off his scent.

Anyhoo...Farmer H told this story:

"This woman at the barber shop said people are already putting blankets on the bleachers at Hillmomba High, trying to save their seats for graduation!"

"That graduation is not until tomorrow night at 8:00. So they're going to have to camp out for 24 hours. Because NOBODY is going to honor a blanket left unattended on the bleachers. I don't blame them. There are never enough seats at that graduation. They have to park in town and get bused. They used to have it at the local junior college, but now there's not enough seating in their fieldhouse."

"I know, HM. But they're already saving seats!"

"It's first come, first served. Whoever gets there first gets the seat."

"I know. That's why it's not right. It's for whoever gets there first!"

"Those savers ARE there first! They're there now! Saving their seats."

"Well, it's not right. That's like cheating."

Less than an hour later, Farmer H asked what time The Pony's graduation was on Sunday.

"Two o'clock."

"So we need to be there by at least 12:30. To get a good seat."

The gander has no concept of what's good for the goose, but a very opinionated idea of what's good for himself.

2 comments:

Sioux said...

By bow it's over.

By now, you've watched--in the audience--as your son walked across the stage and got handed his diploma.

I hope it was a wonderful ceremony, and I hope that Hick didn't put the miniature pony or a goat in the bleachers to save a place for you.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
The minute the band started to play Pomp and Circumstance, I started bawling like a grand prize was being awarded to the most-likely-to-end-up-dehydrated bawler.

Oh, the anticipation of The Pony walking down those steps and right past me! And the bittersweetness of my cronies marching by without me! You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.

I saved two bleachers for my sister the ex-mayor's wife. No miniature pony nor goat was harmed.