CIRCUS TRASH

                                                 

It was on a bright, starry night that the traveling circus rolled into town.

Josh Hunter and I sat leisurely on my front porch, sipping on a cold beer and watching the ruckus unfold.

We’ve lived all our lives in this county and neither of us could recall when a circus of this magnitude had graced our little town.

But here it was, no less than twelve tractor-trailers, a half dozen mini-vans and a couple of flatbeds being led into town by a stretch limo.

Four or five of the tractor-trailers had been converted into living quarters and the remaining trailers housed the animals.

The flatbeds were filled with all the apparatus for constructing rides and the vans carried the circus crew.

It sure was a sight.

Everyone in town had stopped what they were doing and gathered along the street to get a closer look.

Neither Josh nor I had said a word since the grand parade had entered our street. I guess we were kinda mesmerized.

The limo came to a halt just abreast my porch. The front door opened and a man of color stepped out.

He was dressed all in black and a bus driver’s cap adorned his head. There was no mistaking it, he was the chauffeur.

He stepped quickly to the rear door and opened it.

A pair of long slender legs swung into view. Moments later, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, a beautiful blonde temptress stood before us.

She stepped to one side and another pair of legs emerged from the limo, only these ones were skinny and covered with hair.

A middle aged man, I’d guess in his late fifties, slid from the car and stood beside the blonde.

He too was clad in shorts and a t-shirt. His hair was snow white and tied in a ponytail that hung a foot or so down his back.

An unlit stogie hung from the corner of his mouth and a brown derby covered most of his forehead,  tilted slightly toward his right eye.

His attire certainly belied his station in life. Without the limo, anyone would’ve taking him for one of the carnies.

There he stood, rolling that stogie from one side of his mouth to the other, his eyes fixed on Josh and I as if he was sizing up an opponent. Then a smile filled his face, you know, the kind you get when you recognize an old friend.

Placing an arm behind the blonde, he ushered her across the street and up my walk.

“Evening gents and a fine one it is”.

The cigar made another trip across his mouth.

Josh and I didn’t answer.

“My name is Cassias DeMoines and this is my lovely assistant Pricilla. I wonder if you gents could supply a little information”? He asked.

Josh and I both nodded.

“That’s great. We’re traveling through, won’t be here more than two days. We’re looking for a place to set up our little carnival”.

He paused just long enough to unleash that smile and work the cigar again.

“We noticed a field just outside of town that would suffice nicely. Would either of you gents happen to know who owns it?”

Josh opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a word someone cleared his throat.

Everyone turned toward the sound. Wouldn’t you know it.

Mayor Dibley had snuck up behind Mr. DeMoines.

The mayor was never one to miss out on a chance to exploit the benefits of his office and I could tell he was on the scent.

Accentuating his presence with a half bow he announced, “Mayor Dibley at your service folks, I’d be glad to be of assistance”.

 “Well sir, you must be a mind reader”. Mr. DeMoines said.

Then he unleashed that smile again.

“I just asked these gents for directions to your office. You see, I always like to do business with the man in charge”. He said.

“My name is Cassius DeMoines and this is my assistant Pricilla”.

“Well sir”, the mayor retorted, “You’ve made quite an impression on the town folk, lets see if you can impress me as easily”.

With that said, the mayor and Mr. DeMoines, arms across each others shoulders, strode off toward the limo with Miss Pricilla tagging along behind.

I watched closely, trying to figure which one of those old con artists would get the others wallet first.

Josh took a long haul of his beer and then as if reading my mind, “Twenty bucks on the mayor”, he said.

I grinned. “Your on”.

MANS BEST FRIEND

LET'S GET A DOG!!!!!!!

When my grandson Tom first said those words, a lot of indifferent thoughts immediately surfaced.
Who's gonna look after this pouch?
Who's gonna remove the land mines from the lawn everyday?
Who's gonna feed and bath our new addition?
And the bills, we know who's gonna look after them.
But the look in Tom's eyes tugged at my heart strings and as they say, the rest is history.

Now Mario,( thats what he answered to now) has grown to quite a size. And those land mines, let me tell ya, a pooper scooper is out of the question. And Tom,(you remember him) well once the novelty wore off, he kinda reneged on his promise to clean up after the mutt.
Thanks goodness our yard is large enough Mario doesn't need walks, cause I draw the line when it comes to putting a plastic bag over my hand, picking up landmines and carrying them back to our house for disposal.
AAAAHHHHH!!!!!, ain't never gonna happen.
He gets lots of exercise chasing Tom and my other grandchildren around the backyard. And when the ooppertunity presents itself, the neighbours cat provides a bit more excercise.

Mario's food now comes in a bag so large I'm afraid of a hernia and dog hair adorns every jacket I own.
I've replaced four pairs of slippers and the leg of one kitchen chair.
The neighbours cat only has about three lives left, our electricity meter has gone from monthly readings to estimates, (seems Mario has taken a dislike to the man who reads the meter) and our yard is completely void of birds and squirrels.

But even with all these misdemeaners filed against him, he somehow has managed to entwine himself in and around our lives so tightly that we accept him for what he is, Mario.