(Today’s story is the second of a trilogy of ridiculous tales.)
Two gunslingers, Clint and Arnie, had an argument and decided to settle it with a duel. Whoever was first to shoot the other one dead would be the winner.
The wives screamed blue murder. “What are we to do? We have seven children each. Who will support them? What will they eat? Where will they live?”
To placate such anguished beseechments Clint and Arnie decided to have a different sort of competition. Who can tell the biggest lie? Their wives would judge.
Clint said he grew a turnip so big it was the size of a house.
Arnie said if Clint wanted to cook it Clint could borrow Arnie’s cooking pot.
Clint said if Arnie wanted to wash the pot Arnie could do so in Clint’s tub.
Fairly quickly it grew into a shouting match. Arnie shot Clint’s wife who shot Arnie’s wife who shot Clint who shot Arnie. All four were dead. It all happened so quickly but at least the argument was settled in a fair fashion.
In the end all agreed; in cases like this the overall IQ of the country went up and everyone was a winner.
Butch would saddle his horse and ride into town. It was an all-day expedition and a weekly one – every Wednesday. Butch always admonished his wife, Mary, the same way: “Make the grocery list thoroughly. I don’t want to have to go into town a second time in one week. If you leave something off the list, that’s it. We’ll just have to do without.”
Then off he would go, leaving the farm, and the milking of the cow, to the care of his wife for the day. This weekly Wednesday venture was Butch’s way of having a day off. And it was useful as well; someone had to get the groceries. Besides, Roosters’ Saloon, the local watering trough, was an added attraction.
“Silly man,” thought Mary every time, “if he just took his cell phone I could text him with anything I’d forgotten.”