Now, MyHero and his friends meet for lunch once a week. (or twice-if it's more than that he's lied about it because they go to an All-you-can-stuff-in-your-fat-face-buffet & he says he is dieting) . I call it the GoodOleBoysClub- all one word- These men know more about other families than their pastors do. It is amazing! Hey, MyHero, says- I am going to tell you this but don't tell anyone. (Right!) How do you know this?-I ask him..... My friend, Mikey (no matter that this guy is now 60+ and bald-he is still, and shall forever be, Mikey-not Michael, not Mike- it's Mikey) told me. Your friend, Mikey, told you? (I always double check the facts -a habit that drives MyHero round the bend-that would be crazy for all you non-Midwesterners) Yes! MIKEY told me! ( SOMEONE is getting a tad snitty now) Where, pray tell, did he hear it? Never mind that...he just told me...okay? By now MyHero is no longer sure he wants to share his ill-gotten information with me. Well? I ask...I am waiting...this better be good because I had to climb down off the ladder that I am using to paint the outside of the house to hear him. The story unrolls. What's the rest? I ask....Rest? What do you mean~the rest? The rest of the story- just like Paul Harvey says....what is the REST OF THE STORY? Dumb-founded look-Well, that's it! That's it? I knew that 3 weeks ago....I'm the one that told his wife in the first place....AND...she promised me she wouldn't tell him plus she has embellished the story with people I don't know & added places that I didn't even know existed!
And so it goes- The moral of this story is - If you are on the ladder painting the house just ignore the person below you- it's not worth the climb down.
1 comment:
Down south, we call that the
Spit-n-whittle club. Old men set around at the store, the gas station, on a park bench, with a knife and a piece of wood, and discuss everyone's business but their own. They never actually make anything but toothpicks, which they can't use, as they are mostly toothless, but that isn't the point.
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