 Dud had flipped. Completely.
Doc looked at Steve, who shrugged. Steve looked at me, and I
shrugged, too. Maybe it was reading all those science magazines that
did it. Maybe it was trying, in his small-town way, to keep up with
the latest in gadgets. Something, however, had tripped the goofy
switch in Dud's brain and the synapses had snapped.
Consider this:
"Mornin', Dud," said Doc, as Dud joined us that morning.
Dud smiled and waved at us, then sat at his usual chair and
flipped over the coffee cup.
"Not until late afternoon," Dud said, staring straight ahead at
the orange juice machine.
"What's not until late afternoon?" said Steve. Dud waved a hand
at him.
"If you get there first, just go ahead and unlock the gate," Dud
said to the orange juice machine.
"Where are we going?" Doc asked.
Dud waved his hand, dismissingly, at Doc.
"The upper pasture should be checked first," Dud said to his
coffee cup as Loretta filled it. "Then we'll work on down to the
Atkins gate."
[to top of second
column] |
By this time we were already composing a requiem for Dud's mental
capacities.
None of us had the heart to ask about the Atkins gate.
"How long," Dud asked the sugar packets, "do you think it will
take?"
Doc looked at me. "I think," he whispered, "it's already too
late."
It was then that Loretta gestured toward Dud's left ear, the one
away from us. Dud was wearing a blue earring! Looked like something
they'd wear on "Star Wars."
"OK," he said to his spoon as we all stood and stared at his ear,
"see you then."
Then he looked at us. "Hi, guys. Sorry. I was on the phone."
I still think he's nuts.
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
Sponsored by:
www.pearsonranch.com.
Farm-direct, delicious California navel and Valencia oranges.
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