When I got up this morning – first light, as usual – Bernie was already in the office, not usual. There were papers all over the place and he had ink on his nose.
“We’re doing a budget this year, Chet.” Budget? I knew budgies, a kind of bird, and birds aren’t my favorite, a little on the mean side. Would I be mean if I could soar around in the big blue sky? I ask you.
“A budget, come hell or high water.” High water we’ve got these days in parts of the Valley, but hell? Hell comes up a lot in human conversation but I’m not too clear on what it is. There’s Hellhound on My Trail, of course, a scary song by Robert Johnson – we play him a lot, me and Bernie – and by the way what’s hellhound all about? The only hound I know is Filbert who lives acrooss the canyon and mostly naps.
“I’m just going to download this free software, and then – Oh, no!” The computer made a sound that reminded me of this time the toaster conked out, something about maple syrup. Was maple syrup the problem now? I waited to find out.
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