The Rural Voice, 1982-12, Page 50WIANS
'OUNTRY
:: �.•
ST0R1'
omeNAT RAI. F00
Christmas Baking Supplies at Bulk Prices
• Vitamin supplements and herbal remedies
• Herbs and spices • Gourmet coffee and tea
1
&•oCOWAN'S COUNTRY STORE (3
,••••S• X169 Main St. E., Listowel 2911-2)18 •�s••
ALL AROUND THE HOUSE
pour 'ijrtstiita� free
More
Kitchen - Bed - Boutique - Bath - Gifts
254 .JOSEPHINE, WINGHAM 357 2993
PG. 50 THE RURAL .'J!CE/nECEMBEr' 19P?
GISELE IRELAND
Hard day
at the office
It's been another one of those falls, when if anything goes
right, it just happens, it wasn't planned.
The combine has been in the shop so often that Super Wrench
automatically reaches for the ratchet when he puts his socks on in
the morning. Luckily everything doesn't
break down at the same time, just a kind
of simultaneous symphony of sabotage.
The harvester malfunctioned in the
middle of the field and the tool truck
raced out to ease the suffering. One of the
men took their car and parked it behind
the harvester with the windows open. No
one bothered to check just what direction
the spout of the machine was pointing
while they were cursing and fixing and
when the operator finally cruised down
the rows, the front seat of the car was
filled with nice juicy green silage. The car owner chased the
machinery operator down the rows heaping abuses and curses on
his head, while he, oblivious to the havoc he left behind was still
spewing silage here, there and everywhere. He finally turned
around and with a big hand wave, acknowledged the problem and
fixed it. The car owner still thinks he did it on purpose and is
thinking of ways to return the favour.
The combine died at the back of the farm on the blackest night
of the year. The operator, Paul, was not thrilled at the long hike
ahead to reach the buildings and the tool truck, but set off at a
brisk pace anyway. While stumbling through the dark he stepped
on something soft and very alive, and when he looked down at his
feet he was able to make out a white stripe. Well, here he was,
right in the middle of right and wrong, and he did the only thing
possible. He ran. Naturally, so did this big ferocious skunk, right
after Paul.
Paul, sensing this menacing danger pursuing him, accelerated
his speed and found a fence looming just ahead of him. He
figured that the other side of the fence was home free and cleared
it with a leap. He felt his pants rip and his leg caught, but with
that striped marauder at his heels, he didn't take the time to check
if he left anything precious behind. The skunk met him on the
other side and then laid the goodies on him. It then casually
sauntered back into night. Paul was still convinced that the skunk
waned a part of him and he never slackened speed until he hit the
buildings and then all we could get out of him was, "It didn't get
me, it didn't get me". The adrenalin pumping through him in this
mad escape must have neutered his nose because our eyes watered
within fifteen feet of him. We couldn't deny him a ride in the
truck, not with him breathless and barely escaping from this
vicious attack and we didn't have the heart to make him a smelly
outcast.
By the time we reached home he realized what he smelled like
because our heads were out of the window and the aroma
permeated everything. The finish was watching this grown man,
clad in socks and work boots and undergotchies getting into his
truck to go home. Oh, he had a hat on too. The rest of the stuff
was in the back of the truck. We were holding our sides and our
faces were painfully trying to withhold the merriment that we just
couldn't let out until this unfortunate victim was out of earshot. 1
hope his wife met him with a stiff drink, because he really did
have a hard day at the office.