One That Knows

Carl called yet again. Carl calls all the time. Somebody should plunder that dude's phone. He says "Hail." One word then silence. Carl has made a habit of this.

I moved into in Carl's neighborhood a year ago. Everyone knows one another and Carl regards this closeness, this happenstance proximity is consent to take control of telephone lines like Carl is the most diminutive Mussolini in history.

So what did he have to say today? Excitedly he tells me to come by his place; he wanted to show me something. Subterfuge bounces off Carl like a trampoline. I went to his home

Carl's home is almost as loud as Carl. As I approach I recall that his yard usually displays season-appropriate decorations. It's spring now and so what does he have in his yard? A huge, inflatable rabbit. Swaying, it welcomes me. Carl pops out his door before I can knock. Grasping the crux of my elbow he leads me past his porch awning. He looks up. I do too. We're both looking up. This should be interesting.

I discover the whole reason of my requested presence was so he could show off gutter covers, which he says keeps debris from clogging it. And he, for once, had something worthwhile.