Sunday, February 16, 2014
Washing an Umbrella
Good News
Iris the waitress could tell. "Good news, huh?"
Jepps acknowledged same, but begged off telling it.
He had forgotten.
Back to the messy efficiency to recheck the mail, from
whence it may have come. Bills.
Then the email, Yahoo and Google. No soap.
The one he seldom used with the Cable Company
refused to let him on. When he asked to change his
password, they informed him he needed to type the
twenty-eight digit number on the modem first.
Modern humor completely, since it consisted only
of twenty-eight digit numbers. A wraparound pop art
phase for commerce.
Jepps started losing his glow. It WAS good news,
though. He did remember that.
The next morning, Horge sat with him in the booth, due
to a trucker enveloping his usual end of counter seat.
“Then, you lost your good news?”
“It appears.”
Iris came with their orders, laughing and happy.
“She got it. Iris. You left it laying around and she
expropriated it.”
“Nonsense! It's exclusive to me...whatever it is.”
“Uh uh! Women convert things as part of their usual
expropriating process. Believe me. I've been married
three times.”
“I'll beg it back from her.”
“No way! They don’t give up things. But don't look so
discouraged...it's mostly this filthy weather anyway.
My umbrella smells like shit.”
“Then you should wash it.”
“You don't wash an umbrella! Shows your disordered thinking.”
Labels: absent minded, chaos, expropriation, losing, umbrella, women
