by Slim Randles
Now I’m not sayin’ that comin’ down with that Lombardo in my back was a good thing … nossir. Hurtin’ like that can’t hardly ever be good, ‘course, but every white cloud has a silver linin’ as they do say.
Alphonse Wilson here, with another life lesson to be disgruntlified whenever you get around to it. And there’s never any charge for these lessons unless you don’t believe me. If that happens, send me a dollar.
Wellsir, I think getting’ that Lombardo musta happened back when I was haying. See, we used to bale alfalfa up in 300-pound bales and we didn’t have them lifter thingies like they do now, so we had to pick ‘em up and toss ‘em on the flatbed wagon, yes we did. ‘Course they don’t do that any more ‘cause ranch hands just ain’t as strong or fortifried as we were back then.
So now they got machines that do the work. And the bales are now these little two-string things that a child can manhandleize. Now that Lombardo don’t just kick in automatical. Nossir. Has to kinda build up speed you see. First there’s a little twingie of something back there, like a wink in your muscles. Least that’s how it happened with me. Then, after hayin’ with the twingie for a while, you come up on somethin’ more serious, like a stretchie, where you gotta stretch your back … well, you know.
And then one day, the whole Lombardo comes crashin’ in on you and you can’t throw bales around anymore, and you’re forced to drive the tractor and sip coffee.
From then on, the other guys got all the glory, but hey, ol’ Windy held up under the shame all right.
And that Lombardo turned out to be a pretty good weather prestidigitalis, too. You know it’s goin’ to rain tomorrow, right? Hey, I know there ain’t a cloud in the sky, but my back hurts. Yep, even sittin’ here on the porch it’s shapin’ up to be a regular Lombardo attack. So I know it’s going to rain tomorrow. And that’s what the guy on the radio said, too.
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Brought to you courtesy of “Whimsy Castle,” the new novel by Slim Randles. At your bookstore now.
