Farmer H Is His Own Buddy

I came home from town Wednesday, a bit earlier than usual, because of my leg therapy appointment. As always, I looked down into the BARn field as I passed, to see if Farmer H was there puttering around. No SilverRedO. But there WAS a vehicle!

A white truck with a matching camper shell was parked nose-down in front of the BARn door. Huh. That was not supposed to be there! I don't know anybody with such a truck out here. No relative has one. Farmer H's buddies who have come out to hunt squirrels or deer or mushrooms did not have a vehicle like that. I had to stop in the driveway and give Farmer H a call.

"Where are you? Is anybody supposed to be over at the BARn?"

"I'm down at my locker. I was waiting on a call from the ATF. I'm ready to leave now. Nobody that I know of is supposed to be out there."

"Well, there's a truck over at the BARn..."

"Is it a white truck? That's the one I just brung out there. That I took back from Old Buddy."

"Huh. It might have been nice if you could let me know. So I didn't think someone was stealing all your tools and treasures out of the BARn."

"Oh. I didn't know when I was going to get it, but today I had help."

You'd think something like that might be nice to share with your wife, when you leave her home alone all day to defend the Mansionstead against intruders. Farmer H has finally been trained to notify me when one of his buddies will be here for something. I guess that rule doesn't apply when he's his own buddy.