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December 05, 2018 | | Comments 0

Farmer Bill

And there Farmer Bill lay, all snuggled up on his porch couch in a woolen blanket, under the cold winter night sky, like a venerable raccoon in a cocoon. It had been a weird day; it all started when he came out to find that his tractor tire was flat and then upon closer inspection, he realized it had just sunk a little in the mud, but, no need to waste a freak of visual preponderance upon first reflection, so he went with it and so, yes, the tire was definitely flat.

He lay there, while the empty silo nearby yearned for harvest: for a sudden moment he softly grunted and realized, ‘I just don’t want to fill hollow phallus palaces with seed anymore!’ And then the day got weirder when his brother-in-law (who possesses a very distinct voice) rang him up: Bill answered, ‘Hello?’ and the voice said, “Oh, sorry, wrong number.” Bill quickly replied, ‘Jason Braggs Junior, I know its you!” There was a long pause, an odd blender-machine whine in the background, then the phone went dead.

Bill was now inside his house, he didn’t believe in cell phones (yet), but was seriously considering getting one just then, just to play around and experience something Collective for a hoot. Suddenly, in the quiet of this moment of ‘iPhone or Adroid?’, a tiny field mouse popped its head up from behind his toaster oven. (Bill kept a bright light stationed there for such a chance encounter). Bill didn’t move a muscle, neither did the mouse: Bill imagined that they were now ultimately in an Old West stare down, neither being able to move, hence chancing Time would not stay still either. Bill made the first move, dashing over the couch that acted as a room divider between the kitchen and living-room: the mouse did something unexpected, he held his ground…

Bill stood, perplexed, not understanding what was what, how such a tiny thing that had been mysteriously disappearing for weeks on end, could just hold back on its usual habit of retreat and Houdini-DNA. The mouse slowly turned and when Bill tip-toed to follow its path, he saw it go under the oven. ‘Ha! I’ve got you now!’ said Bill and he lifted the toaster gently while readied with a mouse-eradicator in his left hand…

Low and behold, Bill’s eyes got wide and his left arm slowly dropped, like a water-well pump-handle does when its bucket is finally filled… To his surprise, there was a nest with 6 new, pink mouse-pups and momma-mouse nowhere to be seen…
Bill slowly put the toaster oven back exactly as it was, thanked Fate that now he understood where his missing sock went to and for and made a mental note, that toaster ovens are warm skies for some and that he was in no particular mood to play Creator/Destroyer tonight; Shiva was, by this time in his earthly development, very ‘so yesterday.’

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