Pet Peeves

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283

Windy City

By Mark D. Crantz
By Mark D. Crantz

Sunday is a day of rest. So my Bible tells me so. It was anything but, with gale force winds causing flying debris, grounding seagulls, breaking tree branches and downing power lines. My wife said the gods were angry and needed a sacrifice. I didn’t like the look in her eyes. Red is not becoming. I ran and hid. Here’s a recap of my day.

The day started out normal. I was told to take out the garbage. I did not. I was told to make a run to the store and pick up a few things. I did not. I was told to give the dog a bath. I did not. I was told to watch ESPN. I did. Four out of five marriage counselors surveyed agree that doing one of four things make for a strong marriage. But four out of five marriage counselors surveyed agree four out of five dentists don’t have strong marriages because they don’t keep their hands to themselves.

The troubles started at 230. Not the time, but the place. My wife wanted to use a 230 gift certificate before it expired. I went with her because she couldn’t find anybody else. My wife loves 230 and their onion soup. I love 230 for the seating. You can eaves drop on four out of five other marriages. That’s when the bad news hit. The hostess was picked up by a gust of wind and swept several establishments down. She smacked into an Oceane Skin Care salesperson and got a complete makeover. Then it got quiet again like nothing really happened.

Lunch was over. I handed the 230 gift certificate to the waiter. He said it was no good. He pointed up. I looked and saw the 230 sign now read 530. The wind had blown over the 2 and blown away my gift certificate. I huffed and puffed that our lunch had started at 230. The waiter huffed and puffed back that lunch had concluded at 530. Now four out of five other marriages were staring at our table. My wife intervened. She told the waiter her lunch had concluded under 230. My lunch had concluded under 530. The waiter agreed. She left. I remained until the police came for me. I’m sorry to report they don’t have ESPN at the station.

Eventually things got sorted out with 230 and 530. I caught up to my wife at Heisler Park. The wind had picked up again. She and other concerned residents were trying to hold down the newly placed Sea Breeze statue. The sculpture was being blown towards Main Beach. Residents were screaming that the sculpture was not allowed on Main Beach. The city’s master plan does not allow public artwork at the window to the sea. The sculpture lady was unaware of this ordinance. She held her multicolored parachute high and proud over her head. I joined in to help the struggling ground crew. I wrestled the parachute away from Sea Breeze and things settled down. I did not settle down, but now entangled in Sea Breeze’s parachute, rose like a rocket.

I am now over the village entrance headed for parts unknown. There’s no need to worry. I have a copy of the Indy and a selfie stick and promise to report in. Bon voyage.

 

To date, there have been no reports back from Crantz. But no news is good news when it comes from him.  

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