drunk before they broke in, it never would have happened. As Willey started the washer he knew Barney would hear it and come out to talk to him. He didn't look forward to that. He knew Barney would blame him for everything that went wrong. He'd never hear the end of it.
Barney would lie down and let the world walk all over him if he, Willey, didn't keep prodding him to stand up for himself. Barney was such a dolt. Willey wondered how Barney ever got along before he, Willey, took him under his wing and helped him along. Willey sighed. You can't just turn your head and not help those around you who aren't as bright. It was a burden he would have to bear.
****
Later the next morning I slowly pulled myself out of bed and limped into the kitchen. The stress of the night before had triggered an arthritis attack in my hips. I felt like I had been run over by a truck. I moved in a slow, lurching, movement only the arthritic can appreciate. I sat at my kitchen table and thought about the night before. I couldn't believe I had let Willey talk me into that mess. We could have both end ended up in jail for a long time.
I sat there looking out the windows at the other houses and the palm trees. Eddie the egret was strutting up the street again looking for food. Egrets were hunted for their white feathers at the turn of the last century, and almost became extinct. Now they're all over the place. It was a pretty site. I wondered if I would soon be looking into an alley from the window of my rented room.
I heard the washing machine in my shed start up. Each unit has a shed under the carport at the back of the driveway. We put our washers and driers in there. Willey was washing his clothes from the night before. He doesn't have a washer and dryer, so he uses mine. I forced myself to my feet, scooped up my own smelly clothes, and headed out to the carport. I moved slowly because of the pain in my hips. Part walking, part shuffling, part lurching and hobbling, accompanied with a lot of "ews" and "ahs." I worked my way across the driveway. When I reached the shed I threw my dirty clothes at Willey and started hobbling back inside.
From behind me Willey said, "Hey, Barney. Are you having trouble walking?"
"No," I said. "I'm doing a kabuki dance." I was in a foul mood. I hobbled on toward my side door. Willey followed me.
"Hey, it wasn't my fault I got my foot stuck. It could have happened to anybody."
"Right," I said, and limped inside. Willey followed me in and sat down at my kitchen table.
"You got any coffee?" Willey asked. I pointed to the cabinet over the sink. Willey put the coffee on, then he came back to the table with mugs and spoons.
"There's cream in the fridge," I said. When he sat down I said, "Well, that was a bright idea you had last night. Do you have any more?"
"Not yet, but I'll come up with something."
I couldn't wait. "No more loony ideas?"
"Barney, why are you always so pessimistic? Just because we had a little mishap last night doesn't mean we have to give up. There's more than one way to skin a cat, you know."
"Have you ever skinned a cat?" I asked.
"Course not, why would I do something like that?"
The man didn't know sarcasm when he heard one.
"I'm not going along with any more of your hair-brained ideas," I said. "There's no way we can stop these people. It's a lost cause."
"Bullshit. You can give up if you want to, but I'm
Barney would lie down and let the world walk all over him if he, Willey, didn't keep prodding him to stand up for himself. Barney was such a dolt. Willey wondered how Barney ever got along before he, Willey, took him under his wing and helped him along. Willey sighed. You can't just turn your head and not help those around you who aren't as bright. It was a burden he would have to bear.
****
Later the next morning I slowly pulled myself out of bed and limped into the kitchen. The stress of the night before had triggered an arthritis attack in my hips. I felt like I had been run over by a truck. I moved in a slow, lurching, movement only the arthritic can appreciate. I sat at my kitchen table and thought about the night before. I couldn't believe I had let Willey talk me into that mess. We could have both end ended up in jail for a long time.
I sat there looking out the windows at the other houses and the palm trees. Eddie the egret was strutting up the street again looking for food. Egrets were hunted for their white feathers at the turn of the last century, and almost became extinct. Now they're all over the place. It was a pretty site. I wondered if I would soon be looking into an alley from the window of my rented room.
I heard the washing machine in my shed start up. Each unit has a shed under the carport at the back of the driveway. We put our washers and driers in there. Willey was washing his clothes from the night before. He doesn't have a washer and dryer, so he uses mine. I forced myself to my feet, scooped up my own smelly clothes, and headed out to the carport. I moved slowly because of the pain in my hips. Part walking, part shuffling, part lurching and hobbling, accompanied with a lot of "ews" and "ahs." I worked my way across the driveway. When I reached the shed I threw my dirty clothes at Willey and started hobbling back inside.
From behind me Willey said, "Hey, Barney. Are you having trouble walking?"
"No," I said. "I'm doing a kabuki dance." I was in a foul mood. I hobbled on toward my side door. Willey followed me.
"Hey, it wasn't my fault I got my foot stuck. It could have happened to anybody."
"Right," I said, and limped inside. Willey followed me in and sat down at my kitchen table.
"You got any coffee?" Willey asked. I pointed to the cabinet over the sink. Willey put the coffee on, then he came back to the table with mugs and spoons.
"There's cream in the fridge," I said. When he sat down I said, "Well, that was a bright idea you had last night. Do you have any more?"
"Not yet, but I'll come up with something."
I couldn't wait. "No more loony ideas?"
"Barney, why are you always so pessimistic? Just because we had a little mishap last night doesn't mean we have to give up. There's more than one way to skin a cat, you know."
"Have you ever skinned a cat?" I asked.
"Course not, why would I do something like that?"
The man didn't know sarcasm when he heard one.
"I'm not going along with any more of your hair-brained ideas," I said. "There's no way we can stop these people. It's a lost cause."
"Bullshit. You can give up if you want to, but I'm
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