Three Fingers Were Pointing Right Back At Him

Last Monday, Farmer H commanded me to be ready so I could travel the byways of Hillmomba with him on one of his four non-working days, and take care of family business.

We went to the main hub post office to mail The Pony's Easter Box. From there to our lawyer's office (yes, it IS disturbing to think that we have a need for a family lawyer) to sign and notarize our last wills and testaments. Let the record show that Farmer H parked on the opposite side of the street from the lawyer's office, and proceeded to jaywalk himself across. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, however, took her law-abiding knees the six steps to the crosswalk. I'm pretty sure Farmer H is trying to kill me. He KNOWS I can't walk fast and beat cars that have no obligation (save common human decency) to stop.

After that, we proceeded to the bank, to cash in a whole passel o' U.S. Savings Bonds that my mom left to me. We have been planning to do this off and on, keeping them in the safe until the mood struck us, and when our income was lowered after we both retired. Ahem. I said we BOTH retired. Farmer H convoluted that plan, but decreed that now was the time, by cracky! The time to cash in those bonds. It really makes me no nevermind. I just hate going through the whole rigamarole to get it done. According to the bank, it's not as easy as Farmer H assumed. We are working on the process now, entering serial numbers and calculating maturity. It took me 3 hours last night to do 60 of them. I'm not even halfway done. There's something to be said for stashing your riches in an old sock (perhaps putting that sock inside a mason jar) and burying it in the back yard.

Anyhoo...from the bank we went to have lunch. And then we headed home by way of the newest Waterside Mart so I could get a 44 oz Diet Coke. Theirs rank about 3rd in the competition for my palate, but are still good, and we were not headed into town proper for the gas station chicken store. I asked Farmer H if he wanted a soda. My treat. Because Waterside Mart has a giant jar of cherry flavoring that you can add to your magical elixir. Of course, Farmer H wants cherry in his Diet Mountain Dew...but there's no accounting for his tastes.

We both got a 44 oz beverage, and Farmer H added his cherry. I drove home (blissfully saved from his sweaving) and Farmer H sipped. Once there, he headed off to work in his shacks and the BARn, and I went to my dark basement lair.

Wednesday evening, I was sitting on the front porch pew after snacking the dogs when Farmer H came home. We chatted for a little while, then he headed over to feed his animals. Jack took off after him, always ready to help with any job that might arise, like chasing the guineas away from their feed, or barking at the turkey, or chewing on the Gator tires, or getting under Farmer H's feet.

I didn't have my glasses on, but it looked to me like Farmer H was EXERCISING! He kept bending over to touch his toes. Then he'd walk some more. Then bend over. THEN I saw that Farmer H had something white in his hands. And he yelled at Jack, "You're into EVERYTHING, stupid!" Jack wagged his tail agreeably.

I hollered to ask Farmer H what he had found. "It looks like part of a soda cup. That your dog tore up!"

"I don't know where he would have gotten a cup."

"It's from WATERSIDE MART." Said Farmer H accusatorily.

"I never bring my cups outside. Unless they're in the closed-up trash bag that I put straight in the dumpster with the lid."

Farmer H's body language professed that he did not believe me. Of course it had to be MY cup that Jack had shredded.

"Wait a minute! YOU had your soda from Waterside Mart two days ago! And you took it over that direction."

"No. It's not mine. Mine is still in the BARn." Professed Farmer H. Not having gone to the BARn yet at all.

"Then where else would he have gotten that cup? Nobody out here is going to drive over to Waterside Mart. Jack's never brought one of those cups home before, like if somebody left one out."

"I don't know. But it's not mine."

C'mon. You KNOW that was Farmer H's cup, right?