More Guilt for Danny
By Mike Stevens
A Guiltiest Man Tale
“Thank you Clem, and you have a fabulous day also!” replied Danny Pretest, in response to Mr. Blackson’s farewell. He was headed home from Blackson’s Hardware, where he’d purchased a hammer for use around his place. He was almost to his car when he suddenly had a dreadful thought; what if he’d called Mr. Blackson Mr. Freak-A** instead? No, he wouldn’t have made a mistake like that, even though he was thinking it, for Mr. Blackson had a deformed a**. He took another couple of steps towards his car, when a wave of guilt washed over him. He might have said something like that and just couldn’t remember, after all, he’d recently looked all over for his keys, while he’d had them in his hand the whole time. He’d better go back inside and make sure. Mr. Blackson looked at him in surprise and said,
“Back so soon; did you need something else?”
“Oh no, it’s nothing like that; I just came back to make sure I didn’t call you Mr. Freak-A** instead of Mr. Blackson, because I was thinking you have a lop-sided a**, and I’d hate to be rude.”
“What?” replied a totally-surprised Mr. Backson.
“Oh, you know the way one side almost scraps the ground, while the other side sits so high off the ground, you feel like hanging you coat up?”
“No, I don’t know!” yelled an offended Blackson.
“No offense, but how could you not notice that your a** has severe deformity problems?”
“I think I’d like you to return the items you bought, and I’ll give you your money back; I don’t want to do business with someone as rude as you!”
Danny walked into Portman’s Hardware, and went and grabbed a hammer. He usually frequented Blackson’s Hardware, but for some reason, Blackson was angry with him. He didn’t really see why, but whatever; if Mr. Blackson didn’t want his money, he’d be more than happy to give it to Mr. Portman.
He approached the register, and saw that Vern Drake was going to be ringing him up. Oh, oh, better not say anything about Vern’s severe hair lip.
“Thank you for choosing Portman’s Hardware; that’ll be $19.99.”
Good lord; he resisted the urge wipe off his face with his sleeve. Say it, don’t spray it! “Here you go,” and he handed Vern a $20.
“Thanks for your business.”
Once again, he was almost to his car when he tried to think back to his conversation with Vern, He didn’t think he’d said anything rude, but he just couldn’t remember. With a sinking feeling, he knew what he had to do.
As he approached the register, he saw that it was now being manned by Mr. Portman himself. “Hello, Mr. Portman; I was just in here and was waited on by Vern, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t accidently compare him to a sprinkler.”
“Oh, you know the boy is wonderful, except for soaking everything within a 3-mile radius when answering.”
“Well, I’ll be! I guess today is “Half-Price for Rude B******s Day at Portman’s! Here’s your money back; give me the hammer and get out!”
Great; now how was he supposed to hang that picture; use a rock?