 As we worked our way through the usual topics -- women, politics,
laundry and welding -- Bob said he's planning a spring turkey hunt.
We nodded, silently vowing to check our own camo clothes and slate
turkey calls.
"I sure hope this season goes better than last one, though," Bob
said, sipping his coffee.
"Didn't you get a turkey, Bob?" asked Doc.
"Well, yes and no, I guess you could say, Doc. It's just the way
it happened that didn't turn out so well. You see, I was driving the
stock truck out the highway ..."
"What happened, Bob?" asked Dud, finally.
"Oh, this stupid turkey flew out of the woods and across the
highway. That wasn't bad in itself, but there was this state trooper
behind me, you know? I kept watching him to see if he thought I was
doing something wrong. You know how it is. I checked my speed, made
sure my seat belt was on real good. I kept looking in the rearview
mirror at him, but even if I hadn't, I couldn't have stopped it ..."
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He took another sip and looked up at us.
"You know the headache rack on the stock truck? Well, that dumb
turkey pulled up when he saw the truck, but he didn't clear that
rack and smacked it hard. He went up and over and came right down
through the windshield of that cop car. Smashed it all to pieces."
"Bummer," said Dud, who tried to be a hippie once.
"The worst part was, the trooper gave me a ticket for it!" Bob
said.
"A ticket? For what?"
Bob smiled. "Flippin' him the bird."
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
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