The phone sounded. I picked up. It was Carl again. Carl calls me throughout the week, every week. Someone should take that dude's phone. He says "Welcome." One word then silence. Carl has made a habit of this.
We-Carl, I, others-live in a small, quaint row of homes. Everyone knows each other so Carl regards this closeness, this happenstance nearness is reason to take control of telephone lines as if he's the most affable Mussolini ever.
So why did Carl dial the phone today? Eagerly he asks me to come by; he wanted to show me something. Subterfuge bounces off Carl like rubber. I walked to Carl's home
Carl's accommodations are as noisy as Carl's temperament. Consecrating the beginning of spring he's set-up a ten foot tall, decorative bunny. Gaudily it welcomes me as I approach his porch. Carl pops out the front door before I can knock. He has an ear-to-ear smirk. He takes me by my arm towards the yard. He stares upward. I do too. My mind is the saddest canvas and Carl is the thoughtful painter. This should be interesting.
"Can you see that?" Not really, I respond. "I installed a gutter cover." Fantastic. "I love it". That seamless cover stops debris from blocking water flow, which limits how often I must clean it." Shockingly, Carl's ramblings were actually of use.
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