Wednesday, February 12, 2020

A Dastardly Deed At The Dead Mouse Smelling Post Office

Farmer H and I had plans to meet my sister the ex-mayor's wife, and her husband the ex-mayor, for a casino trip yesterday. First, I had to get the Valentine's Day packages in the mail to Genius and The Pony. Don't even suggest that they are old enough to buy their own treats! Genius even requested, specifically, DOVE chocolate squares this year. Not so much "squares," as "hearts." One year, he was doing the KETO thing, and didn't want much candy. So he got beef jerky.

Anyhoo...we were meeting at Country Mart at 8:30. The main post office over in Sis-Town opened at 8:00. I suggested that Farmer H take the packages there, then meet us at Country Mart. I'd drive T-Hoe to town, and park by Sis at Country Mart. Oh, no. He wanted to pick up Sis and Ex-Mayor in Sis-Town. Which would mean I'd have to leave earlier with him, and we'd have to drive a different route, adding at least 20 minutes each way to our trip.

We compromised by me going with Farmer H, but him mailing the packages at the Dead Mouse Smelling Post Office when it opened at 8:30. We changed the meeting time to 8:45. Everything worked smoothly, except for an atrocity that I witnessed. And got a picture!

Okay. So you don't really see the perpetrator of the atrocity in the picture. I'm not exactly a crime scene photographer, you know. But here's the scene of the should-be crime.

Farmer H got out of A-Cad at 8:25. It was as if the floodgates had opened. As if the bulls had been unpenned at Pamplona. As soon as Farmer H had his hand on the door, a lady parked in front of us jumped out to follow. A man came from behind, just as I was dropping two fingernails out the passenger window. You don't think I'd drop them inside A-Cad, do you?

Anyhoo...this man was a SMOKER! He went up the steps, not grasping the snow-flurried rail, stopped at the top for one last puff, then stepped past the rail to the concrete flower box. He PUT HIS BUTT in the flower box!

Sure, it wasn't his actual buttocks, but rather the end of his cigarette. Sure, the flowers are fake. But HOW DARE HE stick his nasty-habit trash into the Dead Mouse Smelling Post Office's valiant attempt to beautify that old building!

Some people are just butts.

3 comments:

Sioux Roslawski said...

One of my pet peeves (one of many) is people who roll down their window when they're driving to smoke (they don't want the stink in their car, but they think everyone one else wants it around THEM) and they toss their butts out the window when they're done.

How long will those filters be around?

River said...

I agree he shouldn't park his butt in the flower box, but at least he didn't just drop it on the ground, squish it with his shoe/boot and then leave it there. That happens far too often out here, except in the city, where the street rubbish bins have cigarette bins attached to the side, you're supposed to butt out your ciggie before dropping it in, but some don't and then the thing catches fire and burns until someone empties water or their coffee cup into it.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
Or they wait until they park, or sit at a stoplight, then dump their ashtray. I don't like those mounds of butts.

***
River,
Imagine somebody walking over to admire the (fake) flowers, and being greeted with a planter full of butts! Dang the butt-heads! The last thing you need is an extra fire, no matter how small!