In an all-too common move that had everyone within earshot longing for prescription pain medication and/or reaching for any wayward, potentially self-directed sharp object that just happened to be laying about, an area woman, Gertrude Bodine, age 67, turned a simple, meaningless inquiry into a painfully detailed synopsis of a largely misspent and unfortunate life as if for no other reason than she had a reluctantly captive audience in her tenuous, wildly clutching grasp. The seemingly innocent question, put forth mainly as a conversational filler to span some awkward and inexplicable gap in the otherwise stilted discourse, is believed to have had something to do with an area cat, although none present can seem to recall the specifics clearly given the all too natural human tendency to deeply repress and/or bury painful life traumas in that unfortunate dustbin of the human essence - the mysterious, largely misunderstood yet much called upon 'sub-conscious' - where only the most painful of life's traumas hold sway and dominion."Oh, I knew there was a perfectly good reason why I never liked doggone cats!" bellowed the obviously pained and still shell-shocked Gomer Snopes, 49, an area rancher. "All I could think about was getting home to work on my tractor, and the next thing I knew I had to hear about that time Gertrude's father got her sister a puppy and not her and how her husband would not eat anything that wasn't slathered in ketchup (Hey!! What's wrong with ketchup?) and how she has always been self-conscious of her hair and if we thought she should dye it blond! Oh, it was horrible. And who cares if no one ever liked her rhubarb crisp! I just don't care! And what does any of that have to do with a dadburn cat? What does any of it have to do with anything? And why in the heck was I even standing there in the first place? I have my own problems, doggone it! What about me? What about my pain? Why won't anyone love me? I never got a puppy either, dadburn it!" he hollered insanely before resting his head in his hands and submitting to what amounts to a 'good farmer cry'. (Editorial Note: Oh, we hope we never have to witness something like THAT again! As if this whole 'hideous life experience' thing wasn't enough! Talk about piling ON! Farmer tears? Oh, that's just so wrong! Now we have two memories to repress!)
"Well, we were all standing there, and you could see old Gertrude was all excited about something - and not a good excited neither!" said Thelma Snodgrass, 62, an area farm wife and regular church-goer. "She definitely had a bee in her bonnet or a rash on her backside or something, because it was like she was about to jump out of her skin at any moment, the poor dear. And when she started off on how her husband, may he rest in peace, only changed his socks once a month regardless of how much she nagged him and that she never had a dog in her whole life that would mind her and how one of her boys went 3 whole years eating nothing but vegetables (Oh, the horror! Did she really need to let that embarrassing skeleton out of the closet? I mean, show some restraint!), I knew that all was not now well in the Bodine household, nor was it ever! No sir!" she said sweetly while doing a little 'happy dance'. "Oh, I just can't wait to tell everyone I know (and many that she doesn't!) all the things I just learned. It's about time those 'goodie-two-shoes' Bodines were brought down a peg or two, and now I have the ammunition to do it! Oh, I have waited for so long for something like this to happen!" she beamed gleefully! "I'll have tongues wagging all over the tri-county area by sunset, for goodness sake! Sure, her life story is sad and all, but revenge is best when served cold!" said the evil she-devil as a faint waft of burning sulfur drifted on the suddenly stifling breeze! (And we won't even mention the creepy, monk-like chanting that seemed to come from every direction at once!)
"Oh, that was such a nice conversation" said the shockingly clueless Gertrude after returning home to begin dinner. "I am just so thankful that I have such nice friends who don't mind stopping on the street for a few minutes to catch up on the latest happenings! It was great to hear how they were doing! I bet people in those big cities like Tekoa and Colfax don't have many experiences like that, now do they?" she said with smug satisfaction before puttering off into the kitchen to try that doggone rhubarb crisp recipe one more time before moving on to other culinary disasters - the number of which seems limitless at this point, unfortunately.
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