(no subject)
Fred was concerned. This didn't usually happen, but in this instance he felt justified. THe school bus was still in his living room. He had called the man about getting it removed that morning. The man had been slightly nonplussed. "A schoolbus. Yeah. Sure." Perhaps sarcastic would be a better term. In any case, he had agreed to come around and get it out. Fred had gone to work at the accounting office, only to return to his home and his terrified wife, a well paid mechanic. Fred wasn't sure why or hoow they'd gotten married, but that seemed immaterial at this point. Besides, his wife made the best ragu in the state, and he made a fine pesto. It worked well.
Fred's wife wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation, since she'd been at work before Fred got up. This was not unusual. Fred tended to get up around noon and come home around eight. Like many accountants, Fred worked on flextime. Fred was annoyed by the turn of events, because the man had said that he would take care of things, and clearly he had not. Fred had hoped that he would not have needed to explain the bus situation to his wife, since she would likely tell the woman down the hall, Mrs. Neervas, who was an exceptionally religious old widow and would likely be thrown into a paroxysm of chanting and incense burning for the rest of the month. Fred hated incense, and he wasn't very fond of Mrs. Neervas. Fred's wife was fond of Mrs. Neervas, because she made an excellent cup of Hungarian Tea, and they would often drink it together on afternoons when Fred's wife had no cars to fix and Mrs. Neervas wanted to discuss recent sightings of Elvis.
It would be prudent at this point to reveal that Fred's wife is named Shirley.
Fred called the man back and asked him why the bus was still there. The man expressed distress. "Wha'd'ya mean, still there? I hauled that bastard out hours ago." Fred said that this was not the case, at which point the man asked him for license numbers. Fred gave them, and the man said it was a different bus, and he'd have to charge for it again. This seemed like highway robbery to Fred, but he agreed after saying as much over the phone. The man issued a rejoinder by comparing Fred to an oversized hypothalamus gland, but the esoteric nature of the insult caused its sting to be lost, and the man agreed to stop by.
The man was the only person in town with a tow truck, and who was handy with tasks such as finding sacks of gold hidden in libraries, digging holes to China, and removing buses from apartments.
After hanging up, Fred turned around to try and explain things to his wife, only to discover that she had left and run over to Mrs. Neervas's. Already a low moaning drone could be heard, and the thick smell of incense began to fill the air. Fred quickly packed a tin of cookies to show that all was well and headed over to the other apartment. There he found his wife deep in a cup of Hungarian Tea and Mrs. Neervas dancing about in a silk dressing gown. The entire situation was too complex for Fred, who put the cookies down, mumbled a greeting, and hustled his wife out with her mug.
Back in the apartment, Fred apologized for his hastiness, and explained his theory about the bus, and how the man had said it was a different one. Fred's wife agreed, adding that Fred had said that in the morning it was a schoolbus, while this was clearly a greyhound. Fred was amazed, and began a five minute soliliquoy on the meaning of different kinds of buses appearing in one's apartment. Meanwhile, his wife began making ragu. By the end of the speech, everything was ready and they sat down to eat dinner. The meal was fairly subdued, as the bus loomed over them.
After dinner, the man arrived and hauled the bus away. Fred and his wife were both quite relieved, but when they went into their bedroom they kept several dozen candles lit just in case. Fred changed into a set of comfortable pajamas, while his wife got into an old dressing gown. They lay in bed for a while musing on books they needed to read, whether anything might have shown up by the next day, whether or not Mrs. Neervas would be a good babysitter (in the event of children), and the last movie that they'd seen. Then they tried to fall asleep but only managed to stare at the cieling with their eyes wide open, waiting.
And now bed. Because I'm tired, & tomorrow is another fun day of studying.
Fred's wife wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation, since she'd been at work before Fred got up. This was not unusual. Fred tended to get up around noon and come home around eight. Like many accountants, Fred worked on flextime. Fred was annoyed by the turn of events, because the man had said that he would take care of things, and clearly he had not. Fred had hoped that he would not have needed to explain the bus situation to his wife, since she would likely tell the woman down the hall, Mrs. Neervas, who was an exceptionally religious old widow and would likely be thrown into a paroxysm of chanting and incense burning for the rest of the month. Fred hated incense, and he wasn't very fond of Mrs. Neervas. Fred's wife was fond of Mrs. Neervas, because she made an excellent cup of Hungarian Tea, and they would often drink it together on afternoons when Fred's wife had no cars to fix and Mrs. Neervas wanted to discuss recent sightings of Elvis.
It would be prudent at this point to reveal that Fred's wife is named Shirley.
Fred called the man back and asked him why the bus was still there. The man expressed distress. "Wha'd'ya mean, still there? I hauled that bastard out hours ago." Fred said that this was not the case, at which point the man asked him for license numbers. Fred gave them, and the man said it was a different bus, and he'd have to charge for it again. This seemed like highway robbery to Fred, but he agreed after saying as much over the phone. The man issued a rejoinder by comparing Fred to an oversized hypothalamus gland, but the esoteric nature of the insult caused its sting to be lost, and the man agreed to stop by.
The man was the only person in town with a tow truck, and who was handy with tasks such as finding sacks of gold hidden in libraries, digging holes to China, and removing buses from apartments.
After hanging up, Fred turned around to try and explain things to his wife, only to discover that she had left and run over to Mrs. Neervas's. Already a low moaning drone could be heard, and the thick smell of incense began to fill the air. Fred quickly packed a tin of cookies to show that all was well and headed over to the other apartment. There he found his wife deep in a cup of Hungarian Tea and Mrs. Neervas dancing about in a silk dressing gown. The entire situation was too complex for Fred, who put the cookies down, mumbled a greeting, and hustled his wife out with her mug.
Back in the apartment, Fred apologized for his hastiness, and explained his theory about the bus, and how the man had said it was a different one. Fred's wife agreed, adding that Fred had said that in the morning it was a schoolbus, while this was clearly a greyhound. Fred was amazed, and began a five minute soliliquoy on the meaning of different kinds of buses appearing in one's apartment. Meanwhile, his wife began making ragu. By the end of the speech, everything was ready and they sat down to eat dinner. The meal was fairly subdued, as the bus loomed over them.
After dinner, the man arrived and hauled the bus away. Fred and his wife were both quite relieved, but when they went into their bedroom they kept several dozen candles lit just in case. Fred changed into a set of comfortable pajamas, while his wife got into an old dressing gown. They lay in bed for a while musing on books they needed to read, whether anything might have shown up by the next day, whether or not Mrs. Neervas would be a good babysitter (in the event of children), and the last movie that they'd seen. Then they tried to fall asleep but only managed to stare at the cieling with their eyes wide open, waiting.
And now bed. Because I'm tired, & tomorrow is another fun day of studying.