If You Say So

The woman entered the market just steps ahead of me. She was short had close cropped hair, and as it turned out, an attitude. Wasn't a doubt in my mind she lived on bean sprouts and owned six cats and her means of transportation was a recumbent bicycle with an Obama sticker affixed to its rear fender. She sported low cut Chuck Conner's, pink. The type that probably cruised dark allies in her spare time to fed crusty filth encrusted rats because the poor little things didn't have health care or medicaid.

You know how it works...when strangers hit the market about the same time as you and then you continuously bump carts on the same isles. With each pass she'd give me a look of total disgust. Finally, in the meat department I'd had enough. I looked her straight in the face and said, "Do I know you?"

"I hope the hell not. You're the most fearsome creature I've seen in weeks." Fearsome, she said...

Caught me by surprise that did, but I held my composure and came back with a sharp off the cuff, "Excuse me," then glanced around, kinda embarrassed.

"You look like one of those ultra-conservative militant militia types that want to destroy our government."

Now, here I am in my standard attire, a simple black t-shirt, 5.11 pants, dark blue cover shirt and boots, and my hat. Nothing, I believe, scary. What was it about me that gave her the impression I wanted to destroy the government. I was certain my carry piece didn't print. I haven't fired a weapon all day so it couldn't be the odor of powder residue. My knife was secure and in its place. I was certain I'd left my militia 'assault style' rifle in the truck...so what gives here.

I recovered, bent at the waste so I could hover over her little patchouli butt, and whispered, "I am."

The look on her face was priceless.

She gathered her bean sprout chubby muffin munching butt and fled.

I walked out with a smile. Felt like a kid with his first peppermint stick.

Stephen

So I Asked The Good Lord

Saturday afternoon it was very apparent the shop's HIVAC system wasn't up to snuff. I placed hand in front of one of vents, warm air. Made the call. Keep in mind it's the weekend. They said we'll be there soon.

Meanwhile customers have rain dripping from their brows. My shirt is soon wet. I'm ticked.

By closing time the air guys haven't arrived nor bothered to call. When I finally reach them they give the excuse they're busy. Said, leave the system on and we'll get to you Monday.

Monday arrives. They grace me with their presence. Bad capacitor, the fat man said. He replaced it and flipped the switch and warm air gushed forth. I said, "Doesn't seem to have solved the problem." He smiled then said, "Just wait. It takes time," and drove away.

This morning after I keyed the door and walk inside I immediately know I've a problem. My little thermometer registers eighty-five degrees. I'd left the system to cycle all night. Made the call. He arrived two hours later. "Uh-oh, he said."

I see federal reserve notes fluttering in the wind.

Busted shaft and bad compressor. The system is fifteen years old.

So, I asked the Good Lord what I'd done to tick him off. All I received in reply was a headache. Then, a tiny voice in the back of my mind said, "You know."

Stephen

  

Thank you & Welcome

To my new friend and follower, Vikki, of Mom's Scribbles. Vikki I promise to always reply to your comments. It sometimes takes me a few hours, and when life throws me a curve, days, but be assured I shall respond.

To my other friends, please, hit her link and run over and say hello. I know you will be pleasantly surprised.

Again, thank you and welcome, Vikki. You are now among friends.

Stephen