Slim Randles'  Home Country

A predictable accident: the lunch crunch

[April 18, 2009]  By the time we sat and flipped our cups to the upright and fillable positions at the Mule Barn truck stop, Dewey was already there and having breakfast. It's always such a treat to see Dewey, because that means he's still alive and hasn't had another wreck and gone the way of the passenger pigeon.

"Hi, guys!" he said.

"Hey, Dewey," said Doc. "How's it going with the business?"

"Never better, Doc. I can't thank you enough for getting me started in it."

Doc had once suggested that what this accident-prone good guy needed was a job that dealt in a product that was worth exactly nothing, in case it got Dewey'd by mistake. So Dewey began shoveling cow manure at the dairy and selling it as fertilizer to folks who have gardens in town.

"I hear you've gone into worms, too," Steve said.

"Oh, yeah. I got some from Bert's worm bin and started my own at home. The worm castings sell for more than the fertilizer, and I've started selling worms to the kids for a buck a quart to use for fishing."

We looked at each other and nodded.

"Then I talked them into paying me something each month to shovel manure out at the dairy, so not only is it free, I get paid a little something to go get it. In fact, I made enough money I put a dump bed on the pickup truck."

"No kidding?"

"Saves me having to shovel the truck out. Works really good, too. Not counting the accident."

Doc looked alarmed. "Accident?"

"Yeah. Just dumped a load and set my lunch box down behind the cab. When I lowered the bed, it crushed right through two tuna sandwiches and a new thermos bottle."

In a way, it's comforting to know there are things you can count on in this world.

[Text from file received from Slim Randles]

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