On the sixth day, God turned to the Archangel Gabriel and said: “Today I am going to create a land called Maine. It will be a land of outstanding natural beauty. It shall have tall, abundant mountains full of pine trees and eagles, beautiful sparkling lakes bountiful with bass and trout, forests full of deer and moose, high cliffs overlooking sandy beaches with an abundance of sea life, and rivers stocked with salmon”. God continued, “I shall make the land rich in resources so as to make the inhabitants prosper, I shall call these inhabitants Mainers, and they shall be known as the most friendly people on the earth.”

“But Lord,” asked Gabriel, “don’t you think you are being too generous to these Mainers?”

“Not really,” replied God, “just wait and see the winters I am going to give them.”

Posted by Mainard True

On Sunday night in an interview with Lesley Stahl of CBS’ Sixty Minutes, Al Gore was heard to exclaim that there were so few people who disagreed with him and his assessment of anthropogenic (man made) carbon dioxide causing global warming. He said these are the same people who think the lunar landing was staged at a Hollywood movie lot. He also likened them to the Flat Earth Society people.

Many people have wondered and longed for Al Gore, the arrogant narcissist who claims to have invented the Internet, to run for the presidency again. It has become clear that he has become obsessed with global warming to the point there is nothing else important in his life anymore. Or is that true?

This is an exclusive story by Skinny Moose Media that will not be heard of or read anywhere else.

Skinny Moose Media sent a crack field reporter to follow Al Gore. With a man of such public prominence, surely there must be something our staff could find out about Al Gore that even the most infatuated of mindless Americans would surely see that the man who invented the Internet and is now about to save the world, while substantially adding to his bank account, is a bit less than godly.

Skinny Moose Media’s head investigative reporter, Hairoldo Rivera, heard of a secret trip Al Gore had planned to visit the Hudson Bay area to see first hand the demise of the loving and cuddly little polar bears. Stories have existed for decades now and nearly cost Gore the Vice Presidency, that he has some kind of sick infatuation with polar bears. It is rumored that since birth, he has kept a stuffed polar bear with him at all times, often between him and his wife, causing stress in their relationship.

Rivera went ahead of Al Gore, who traveled alone, which he almost always did when he visited the Hudson Bay area, to devise a way of being able to spy on Gore without being noticed. He decided to rent a polar bear suit and mingle with the other Coca-Cola drinking bears. What Rivera discovered is shocking and is sure to bring the world to their senses about global warming…..and Al Gore, surely.

It seems that Al Gore is in love. Yes, that’s true. He has fallen in love with a polar bear and it appears that he has used his influence as sole inventor of the Internet, to convince the world that the end is near if we don’t stop emitting carbon dioxide, just for the purpose of explaining his trips to the frozen north.

Rivera, who had some difficulties remaining unrecognized with the other bears (it is bear mating season and they’re shooting another Coke commercial) got as close as he could to Gore and his very close friend, a smallish-sized female polar bear he likes to call Laura. He overheard parts of the monologue of Gore’s (Of course Al Gore, having become so mentally deranged from his work on global warming and protecting his Internet invention, thinks Laura talks back.) Here’s what Skinny Moose Media reporter Hairoldo Rivera heard Gore saying to his little fur ball.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep coming up here like this to see you. What’s that, Laura. No, I have told you before. I will not leave my wife. As much as I love you, I don’t like the cold and you wouldn’t like the summer warmth of Tennessee. I know I told you the earth was warming and all the ice was melting but you have to understand, I did it for you. How else could I explain my repeated trips up here?”

Rivera reports that Gore sat for hours with Laura the polar bear, most often sitting silently and at night they cuddled and watch the Northern Lights.

Skinny Moose Media believes that once this story breaks, those lingering few who still believe in Al Gore will slowly turn their unthinking attention to Barack Obama, someone they can truly believe in.

Hairoldo Rivera reporting - April 1, 2008

I have a series of 17 photographs that arrived in my inbox the other day. The title said it was a Canadian National Railroad train stuck in the snow in Northern Maine. I think it looks like Northern Maine, I believe it looks like a CN train and I know that white stuff is snow.

For obvious reasons I didn’t post all the pictures on this page. Click this link and view the entire gallery of 17 photos.

Mainard True

Otis and Gabby decided several years ago to start up a business together. They called their new enterprise Otis and Gabby, LTD. You see several years ago Otis created the ultimate in gadgets. He called it the “SCATS”. It was a gimmick made completely out of alder bushes that was a Seat, a Cane, a Table and a Stool all in one - ala SCATS.

There was only one problem. They had about 300 of these things on hand and had yet to sell any of them. Otis of course was the “brains” behind the business and Gabby was the manual labor but in order to get the business up and running, both Otis and Gabby had to take out a loan at the Andover Savings and Loan, at the time managed by “Cash” Crumsley. Otis and Gabby were near defaulting on their loan.

One day a man from China appeared on Otis’ doorstep looking to do some business. Mr. Chow said he had heard about Otis’ SCATS product and was interested in buying out everything in stock along with the patent rights to the SCATS.

There was much wheeling and dealing until finally Otis, Gabby and Mr. Chow had reached an agreement. All the papers were signed and what seemed a sure thing began to turn south in a hurry. As Mr. Chow was getting ready to leave, he said to Otis, “This is a very big deal and I must get final approval from my boss back in Bejing. If you don’t hear from me in four days, you will know that the deal is approved.”

For four days Otis and Gabby paced, worried to death not daring to answer the phone thinking it might be “Cash” Crumsley wanting to collect his money. The hours, minutes and seconds ticked by and Otis was just about as nervous as a clam at low tide. Right then, a knock came on the door with a yell out, “Western Union”.

Otis fell out of his chair knowing it was bad news from China. Gabby, not really being a full deck of cards upstairs, ran to the door to answer it. He whirled around and yelled to Otis, “Good news! Your mother is dead!”

Mainard True

Saturday, as most of you know, I went with Milt on a photo shoot outing, etc. Lasted part of the morning and then it poured buckets the rest of the day. In short, it was a wash out.

Sunday, I got up early and drove to the Ft. Myers area and met up with a hometown buddy and we took in a spring training baseball game between the Minnesota Twins and Baltimore Orioles. Before you read on, I want to warn you that what I tell happens is gross and disgusting but somewhere in my sick sense of humor, I can only help but laugh. You may choose to read something else.

We got settled in to the game and seated to my right, perhaps a half dozen seats away, was the Fat family from Cellulite City. There was Mr. and Mrs. Fat and their two fat sons - one perhaps 6 and the other 8 or 9. Combined, the family could have tipped the scales at well over a half ton.

We arrived about 30 minutes before the scheduled first pitch of 1:05 p.m. and as we sat talking and laughing (no we weren’t drinking beer), it didn’t take long to realize that the Fat family had a groove worn into the steel bleachers leading directly to the snack stand. First it was hot dogs, then slushies, a round of Cokes, some popcorn and couple more hot dogs. Every time someone selling concessions moved anywhere in the stadium, up went a yell from someone in the Fat family.

At one point, I glanced over to see if these people were actually human and that’s when I noticed the Dad looked like he had a baseball for a head balancing on top of a huge pile of molten lava. If you were to look close enough, you would have noticed two Nike sneakers sticking out of the bottom of the lava rock.

Just when I didn’t think it possible for any normal person to ingest anything else, Momma Fat broke out the peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, bottles of pink Gatorade and passed each member a huge bag of Cracker Jacks, I suppose to add some variety to their Easter Sunday dinner.

The crowd had began to gather and there were few vacant seats around us. The presentation of the colors and the singing of the National Anthem followed and it was impossible to tell if any of them stood. They were as tall seated as standing but they did continue eating. Nothing was going to interfere with that.

Before we got through the first inning, the older of the two boys began coughing. I’m not sure which came first - the uncontrolled projectile vomiting all over the crowd which led to the coughing or the coughing started the event. Bright pink puke trickled down his chin, spattering and blending in with the assorted partly digested remnants of his stomach on the walkway between his feet.

What then to me became an unexplained phenomenon, nobody in the family seemed all that concerned. The younger bog was looking on as if to say, “Look at all the good food wasted.” Dad was busy trying to find the bottom of his bag of Cracker Jacks and Momma Fats was licking the fluff and peanut butter from her fingers.

Most people around them were appalled at the actions and lack of response. A lady sitting directly in front of them now had pink puke and assorted other goodies looking like an abstract work of art stuck to the back of her Baltimore Orioles commemorative t-shirt.

The coughing persisted and the boy became angry that he couldn’t eat more in between his puking and so looked at his mother in needy way. Finally, Momma Fats got up leading her two boys directly toward me. I scattered in panic and ran for the high ground seeking shelter behind the television cameraman perched in the highest location up behind us. I just knew that kid was going to paint some more art on hundreds of unsuspecting baseball fans.

I wondered aloud if they were headed for the snack bar to get a refund.

I returned to my seat looking around from drippings or any other signs a walking ball of vomit had bounced through my seating area. Once I determined the coast was clear, I moved to sit down and that’s when I noticed Daddy Fats had just finished his giant bag of Cracker Jacks and was slip-sliding through the pile of puke trying to get his hands on the three other bags abandoned by the runaway vomit machine, his brother and Momma Fats. It was at this point I began having visions of what the inside of their home must look like. I abandoned any more thoughts like that.

It was one of the most disgusting things I had seen in a long time. Now it looked a bit odd as this very fat man sat alone in the middle of the stands shoving food into his mouth without a care in the world.

I continued to make jokes with my friends as we waited to see what they would bring back with them from the snack bar. Oddly enough, they didn’t return and once Daddy Fats had finished all the food, he took a nap.

I guess he slept for 3 or 4 innings and when he awoke, he glanced around to see if there was any food he might have missed and seeing none, he left.

Needless to say, the thoughts I had prior to the game about a bowl of nachos and an ice cold drink, no longer existed. I watched the game.

Home now needing to sort through way too many emails and get back to work. While you wait for my next important news event to get posted, why don’t you go get something to eat.

Mainard True

Mainard True

Some think Otis is a fool but those of us who don’t think we are fools know that Otis is no fool…..I think! Otis is also a clever and conniving man and often thinks it a great pastime to pretend to be someone that he’s not.

What most residents of Andover don’t know about Otis is that he reads the newspapers everyday incessantly. He read about a man from Boston who had gotten in a bad car accident and had recently won a very lucrative settlement because of that accident.

The man was disfigured in the accident losing both of his ears, was very sensitive and self conscious about his loss but was determined to move on and make a better life for himself. Otis had read in the paper that this man was considering a move to Maine and wanted to open a computer business in Rumford and was looking for capable people to help him with his business.

Otis had an idea. He sent the man a phony resume and scheduled an interview. When Otis arrived for his interview, he noticed two other young, well dressed men ahead of him - assuming they too were there for the interview.

The first man entered the office for his interview and the earless man was quite impressed with the guy. At the conclusion of the meeting the man asked the young applicant if he noticed anything unusual about him. The young man replied, “Yeah, you don’t have any ears.”

Mr. Earless was quick to anger and escorted the young man to the door.

The second applicant entered and once again Mr. Earless was even more impressed with this applicant and at the conclusion of the interview asked the young man if there was anything unusual about him that he noticed. “Yeah, you don’t have any ears,” was his reply and was also tossed out the front door.

It was Otis’ turn. Entering the office he looked around and got a sense of what he was confronting. The interview went very well. You see, Otis is the master of deception, the ultimate in con. Mr. Earless was so impressed with Otis’ answers and his seemingly unbridled knowledge of just about any topic of conversation. He knew he wanted to hire Otis immediately but he couldn’t help himself. He asked Otis if he noticed anything about him.

“Yeah,” replied Otis. “I see you wear contact lenses!”

Mr. Earless was nearly blown over because Otis didn’t remark about his lack of ears and that he was so perceptive to notice that he indeed did wear contact lenses.

“I’m duly impressed!” said Mr. Earless. “Tell me how you could tell that I wore contact lenses.”

“That’s simple really,” answered Otis. “I figured that because you didn’t have any ears you couldn’t wear glasses.”

Mainard True

Mainard True

For any of you who have been listening to my Open Air With Tom Remington broadcast, know that I have been trying to get the audio to the new song, “The Obamaman Can”. Not only is it in audio but the producers of the Schnitt Show have put it to a video.

Tom Remington

This was submitted by Alan Remington from Anchorage, Alaska.

If you used every letter in the alphabet and put it in front of “Lucky!!!”, remove the “L”, that dog would come to you. Funny,
huh. She’d even come to “Car key”. It didn’t matter to her. Insults and lies will offend no dog. Especially Lucky. Food-whore from the very start. If you had something in your hands, she assumed it was food and she was entitled to it. Perfect for after-dinner clean up. Slip the plates down onto the floor and let her go. Lucky was in heaven.

By the beginning of July, if you haven’t gotten your line wet yet, what are you waiting for? Most of Alaska is in a hub-bub getting to the water. If you are unfortunate enough to still be sorting out all your gear from last year, you are not alone. Keep after it. It’ll make sense after a while. The tents set up in driveway aren’t staying there, they’ve just been water-proofed.

And Dan and Clyde arrived last night from Arizona. Clyde loves to fish and who doesn’t. Especially here. Land of the midnight sun. The most perfect campsite in the world. It doesn’t matter what time you start to get ready for fishing or what time it is when you leave or what time it is when you finally get there. The midnight sun is enough light to set up camp.

We rolled all the tents over to finish drying and I noticed Dan and Clyde over beside the garage. Looks like they’re bent over something or working on something together. “What’s that?”, I said. Clyde lifts her head, “salmon eggs”. Dan never moved. He was concentrating so hard. As I approached I saw they were trying to find a nice flat spot to set the 2 flats of freshly brined eggs. So they settled for an appropriate spot together.

They both seemed to enjoy each other’s company. And the eggs looked almost good enough to eat, but of course, do not!!!!!!!

As the day progresses, the gear that once lined the driveway has slowly been removed. By now, folks are beginning to wind-down for the day, after all it’s 11:00pm. It’s so easy to lose track of time. The television is on but no one listens. Company is wonderful; “Oh shit”!, says Clyde. “We left the eggs outside”! So, out the door they go to get the eggs and are right back just as quick.

I know Clyde is proud of all her work on those eggs. I can see it in her face. She looks at me and asked if I had moved the eggs………. Like I had. I said no and she’s not believing me, I can tell. After some discussion, everyone went outside to find the eggs. By the book, as they say, and still no eggs. Everyone is intrigued with the mystery.

We had to abandon the search until morning when daylight might reveal more. And it did. The best spot for the eggs was up on top of the snow machine trailer…. high enough to keep Lucky off. She’s so old, she struggles going up stairs and has to take a break on the way up. Evidence showed drag marks on the deck and the color was right. I decided to go find Lucky.

Perhaps she did get the eggs and if so, my God, she’ll die. Peering inside her mouth and around her gums didn’t help. Her gums were pink………. “Never fear”., I said. “Lucky will show us whether she ate the eggs or not…..later today or tomorrow, right, Lucky”?

Just like clock work, she showed us. Pink, pink, not so pink, everywhere you looked. “guilty as charged!”. She had eaten the 2 flats alright. Her stomach was growling long rolling grumbles. Passing gas was ongoing anyway but she really didn’t seem to be acting any differently. It was obvious she was hungry. I can’t figure out how she got on the trailer. Food whore.

Lucky came with the house. Indeed. The previous owners didn’t want her any more and would have taken her to the pound. Outdoors year round, house training was a long struggle and eventually she figured it out. At 5 or 6 yrs. old, training was slow. We replaced the front door as well as changed “the swing”. It took Lucky a couple of weeks to figure it out. A week and a half for BJ. I was lucky, I installed it.

So , Lucky has been lucky. However, I prefer to think of her as “fortunate”.

We all know that Virgil and Florena live on the far end of the Sawyer Brook Road and even from there it is quite a walk from the road into their farm. Virgil keeps a few sheep in a pasture near the road on the southern side. He was out looking after his sheep one day when a man driving a Lincoln Navigator pulled up beside the road, got out and walked toward Virgil.

“Good morning!” the man yelled. Virgil knew right away he wasn’t dealing with no local here, not driving that ark of a vehicle and dressed the way he was.

The man was a real city slicker, a dude, a crook and dishonest as the day is long. Most of what he had he never earned. Virgil knew the man probably came from the greater Boston area.

“Say, there farmer man,” began the dude. “I would like a sheep to add to my collection. I tell you what. If I can guess exactly how many sheep you have total here in the pasture, will you give me one of your sheep?”

Virgil thought that was a very odd request but considering who he was dealing with, he played along with the fool.

“Sure, I guess,” answered Virgil.

The crooked city slicker mumbled a couple times then without even looking out into the pasture he tells Virgil he has exactly 66 sheep.

Virgil, being as honest as the day is long, told the man he was right and told him to go pick out his sheep.

The man did and as he was loading the animal in the back of his Navigator, Virgil says, “If I can correctly guess which city you’re from, can I have my dog back?”

Mainard True

Mainard True

I found this little ditty in my inbox this morning I thought I’d share. Seems appropriate for the times.

While walking down the street one day a US senator is tragically hit by a truck and dies.

His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.
‘Welcome to heaven,’ says St. Peter. ‘Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we’re not sure what to do with you.’

‘No problem, just let me in,’ says the man.

‘Well, I’d like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we’ll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you
can choose where to spend eternity.’

‘Really, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in heaven,’ says the senator.

‘I’m sorry, but we have our rules.’

And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.

They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne.
Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that before he realizes it, it is time to go.

Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises…
The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him.

‘Now it’s time to visit heaven.’

So, 24 hours pass with the senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.

‘Well, then, you’ve spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity.’

The senator reflects for a minute, then he answers: ‘Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell.’

So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.
Now the doors of the elevator open and he’s in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage.
He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls from above.
The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder.

‘I don’t understand,’ stammers the senator. ‘Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?’

The devil looks at him, smiles and says, ‘Yesterday we were campaigning…… Today you voted.’

Tom Remington

As all of you probably already know, the New England Patriots lost in the Super Bowl yesterday, which you know led to a lot of tempers flaring. When that happens humans exude tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere raising the earth’s temperature. You know that the snow and ice of New England must be running down the drains today.

But I am here to tell you about my effort to keep my Super Bowl Sunday “green”.

When I wake up, my normal routine is to take a shower, shave, put on clean clothes, open up an ice cold bottle of Pepsi-Cola, sit down in front of my computer and begin reading emails. The Pepsi makes me burp and fart further adding to global warming and when I read my emails, which includes comments on this blog and others, I get mad often emitting huge quantities of hot air and releasing uncontrolled bursts of flatulence. But not this day.

I skipped my shower because I knew I would be saving water and using less hot water meant saving energy. To heck with any clean clothes, the dirty ones were good enough. I didn’t want to have to unnecessarily waste more water, energy and pollute the earth with soap from the washing machine.

I really didn’t know if antiperspirant was carbon friendly or not, so I took my solid stick out to my wife and stuck it under her nose to smell. “Does that smell like it’s carbon neutral to you?” I asked.

My perfect plan for having a super green Super Bowl Sunday began to go up in flames when my wife began screaming at me asking me what in the hell I thought I was doing. I told her to calm down before she killed another polar bear. Regardless, my wife didn’t really respond in a way that helped me to figure out about the antiperspirant, so I took matters into my own hands and used some simple logic.

I figured it this way. If I used the pit stop, I might actually over heat even if ever so slightly because I do know that the body acts like its own thermostat and regulates better when it sweats. I put the deodorant stick back in the bathroom, took a whiff under my arms and concluded that even though it wasn’t the most pleasant smell, I couldn’t help but think about the polar/grizzly hybrid bear that got shot a couple years ago because it seems that this never would have happened if I’d stopped using antiperspirant a long time ago.

I wanted awfully to use my new-at-Christmas Remington electric shaver because it’s so cool but as I reached for it, I was overcome with guilt. Think of the native brook trout in Northern Maine dying because the water’s now too warm. I looked in the mirror and once again utilized some rational thinking. “I’ve seen worse”, and I knew my friends would understand.

I thought some of going to the bathroom, you know a number two, that’s part of the morning routine, but I wondered if I held it in and tried to go only like twice a week if that would save a spotted owl? I pinched it off and went about my business.

Our plan for the day was to drive over to Plant City and go to the flea market, the farmer’s market, out to lunch and back to Plant City to watch the Super Bowl. My wife and I planned to travel to Plant City in our very green Toyota Corolla - 35 miles to the gallon. (Cue Kermit the Frog singing, “It’s not easy being green.”) Oh but it is……but wait. I had a better idea.

(In a low whisper so Al Gore doesn’t hear me.) I also own a Plymouth van, but wait, wait before you start demanding I pay fines and an extra carbon tax, I calculated out the carbon savings. Even though I would use more gas in my van than my Toyota, if I took it, everyone could ride with me and think of the gas I’d save. My, God! I just saved another baby seal!

Arriving in Plant City, I announced that we could all ride in my van but no unnecessary talking (carbon dioxide you know) and definitely no farting. I was still pinching real hard and by god everyone else could make some kind of sacrifice.

Traveling to the flea market, I remembered that the flea market and farmer’s market were about 4 miles apart by road. I suggested that we park someplace central and walk about two miles to the flea market, return to the van and walk the other two miles to the farmer’s market. If we did that, we could save another Chiricahua leopard frog. I think my friends weren’t seeing things my way. No wonder the earth is coming to an end. What, the 85-year old lady who walks with a cane can’t suck it up and “git-r-done”? Phhfit!

I want to tell you it is one hell of a sacrifice to walk around a flea market and the farmer’s market, a total of about 4 hours without farting at least once. I did drink a Pepsi at the farmer’s market and I had all I could do to keep from burping. I was sweating like an over worked butcher in August and I wasn’t feeling the love, brother.

I figured most everyone at the farmer’s market was right into saving our planet because I noticed they must be self-regulating their body temperatures too. Way to go Juan and Pablo.

I felt really badly and I knew I had to find a way of making up for the dent I put in our carbon footprint when everyone took a vote to go eat at Checkers - “You Gotta Eat”. But I got thinking about how PETA and others are saying we can help save the planet by going on a vegan diet. Part of the reason they say is because there are too many cows farting and pooping on this earth. Doesn’t it stand to reason that if we eat enough beef, we’ll kill off all the cows?

I filled my gastro-intestinal track with two double bacon cheddar burgers, fries and another Coke? I was feeling like I may explode.

Finally we made it back to our friends with at least 4 hours before kick off. Everyone decided to lay down and take naps but not me, mister. I know what can happen while you’re sleeping - uncontrolled seepages of methane gas and other things. I stayed awake being very conscious not to breathe heavily and debating how many plants and animals I would kill if I logged on to my friend’s computer on a Sunday.

I would guess I maintained about a carbon neutral level of emissions during the game. I had to eat again but I was careful what I consumed - mostly because I had to go to the bathroom real bad now. But all around me everyone was angry and yelling at the officials and saying awful, evil things about Ely Manning. I interrupted a couple times, having to yell to get their attention (yeah I know but critical moments require critical thinking), to tell them to calm down or they would be sure to kill a gray wolf in Pocatello, Idaho.

I remained very calm and said very little when Plaxico Burris caught the winning touchdown. It was actually a spiritual moment for me. I became one with the forests of the Amazon jungle. The truth is if I let it out I was really going to let it out.

I staggered home, setting my cruise control on 55 in order to save a Canada lynx and eased back into the high-back van seat to listen to my wife keep asking me why everyone around me was blowing their horns at us.

I settled into bed around 11:30 p.m. and hoped that morning would come very quickly, so I could go to the bathroom.

Mainard True

Virgil seldom had time for reading an all being so busy taking care of the farm and remaining out of sight of Florena so she wouldn’t find him more work but on occasion he would stop by the Andover Library.

If the truth be known, Virgil was a bit shy about stopping in at the library, especially if Glenda was there working. Virgil was scared of her because he thought she was “hitting” on him every time he went in.

Virgil had to go into town to run errands and pick up a few supplies and so he decided that with winter setting in hard, he would have more time to sit by the wood stove and read.

Sure ’nuff! When he walked in the door, there stood Glenda. Don’t get me wrong here. Glenda wasn’t any beauty queen but compared to Florena she was quite a looker and only a few years younger than Virgil.

Virgil hung a quick right and weaseled his way through the narrow aisles until he reached the section that contained the history books. Virgil, when he did read, liked to catch up on history.

He thought he was in the clear until Glenda came around the corner and said hello to him. He politely responded with a hello of his own, visibly blushing and shy.

Glenda sensing his embarrassment moved a bit closer and Virgil got really nervous not knowing what to do or say.

“Virgil,” said Glenda. “You look big and strong. Can you come into the back store room and help me get a book down from a very high shelf? I just can’t seem to reach it by myself.”

Virgil cleared his throat several times and began clamoring for excuses - anything so he didn’t have to go in the back room with Glenda. Of course much of his fear is of what Florena would do should she ever find out.

Virgil’s mind was racing until he finally came up with an idea. One that he learned after years of living with Florena.

“I know what, Glenda,” said Virgil trying hard to sound sincere and strong. “Why don’t you and I just pretend we are married!”

“Ooooooh!” replied Glenda. “This sounds really exciting, Virgil. I can’t wait to play. What do you want to PRETEND about first?”

That was easy for Virgil because he had it all figured out. “Now that we’re married, why don’t you just go get the damned book by yourself!”

Mainard True