One of our neighbours bought a great car (PT Cruiser convertible) through an online store like eBay and Flug got all jealous. "I'll do even better," he vowed, and began searching the Internet for a sporty something - a Ferrari, Acura, Porsche, McLaren, Jaguar, Stingray, Maserati or Gremlin.
He found one, a 2010 Aston Martin Rapide, and it was only $8,000. I said: "Flug, I think that car costs somewhat more than that, or, in the words of the late Damon Runyon, more than somewhat. I will look it up on the Internet, but I think it's more like six figures, and that's not counting decimal points and the digits found to the right of said decimal point."
I know this sounds a little personal, but I went home and Googled - and I don't mean with Listerine. That search engine - Google I mean, not Listerine - showed the price all right, but with only a 19" computer monitor I couldn't see all the digits. I had to go over to Old Man Manley's place and look at it on his 32" monitor. The price just barely fit on his wider monitor. It was more than eight thousand dollars.
I went back over to Flug's house and told him so, but the big guy, not given to consultation (unfortunately for the psychiatric profession), had already bid on and won the item.
Next morning, bright and early about noon (my wife had piled all the wood in the shed, washed all the clothes and the vehicles, and had tilled both gardens) I looked out my bedroom window and saw the NetExpress truck in Flug's driveway. After washing up and having a light breakfast (which my wife finally made) of bacon, eggs, ham, pancakes and a bean sprout, I walked over to Flug's about 3 p.m. In his driveway was a carton about the size of Donald Trump's bald spot.
"Where's your Aston Martin?" I queried. The big guy was close to tears. Between sniffles - and bites of hand-held blueberry waffles - he explained that he had somehow missed the small print in the online store's description of the car.
"The whole car's in there," he pointed to the huge box. "It's like one a them soap box derby cars that the kids used to drive around. Imagine! Eight thousand dollars. Why didn't you warn me? He reached for his filleting knife that he always carries with him. I backed away, but he merely opened the box. It was an Aston Martin all right, but one you might see through the wrong end of the telescope.
Eight hours later, we had it all together, with only 183 parts left over. There was just room for him in the driver's seat, if he stripped and anointed himself with oil, as it were. He started the engine, which sounded remarkably like mother's 1942 Singer sewing machine. Very smooth.
A 2010 Aston Martin Rapide, a 1942 Singer - there must be a poem or song in there somewhere, but I thought I'd get some distance between Flug and me before I composed it or I'd find myself de-composing. Caveat emptor - let the buyer beware.
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Flug's antics haven't been the only newsy items in this community during the last week. Every parent I know is practically hyperventilating with sighs of relief after their little angels went back to school following Labour Day. Of course that great hulk who lives here and inhales the refrigerator's contents twice a day was ecstatic about returning to school. He's in grade 12 this year, which I find really weird; I may be mistaken (I'm told I often am) but it seems to me that it was only five or six years ago that my wife and I were lugging him home from the hospital. He saw the fridge, ate three ham sandwiches and went to bed for an hour. The rest is history.
Speaking of Labour Day, I wonder every year why it is called that. Makes no sense to me. How could it be Labour Day when it's a holiday from labour? This year I looked it up and found that it originated in the 1870s in Hamilton, Ontario after workers went on strike for a 9-hour day. Lazy bums. I work more than that in a week, and I'm 61.
The Canadian annual celebration of the workers' success in getting trade union protection led to a similar holiday in the U.S., but try and get them to admit that some other country thought of something first. Good luck with that.
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Bob's website: users.xplornet.com/~robertlafrance/Index.htm
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