"I object - your honor."

 

        I cannot claim to understand fate, luck or Juju.  All of these things sit in small and large packages on my porch, delivered there by some unknown employee, whose attendance record we won’t talk about just yet, but suffice it to say, had luck shown up just a little sooner, things would be a lot different today.  Another opportunity missed, a schedule delayed, or a small message light, which should have been blinking but burnt out just moments before the call came in – all of these things – random occurrences?  Affected by the tides, Sun spots?  Or are there mystic shenanigans afoot?  Who’s to say why, just at that exact moment you had the urge to sneeze, causing your car to veer slightly, resulting in your failure to clip that annoying mime as he pretended to cross the street.

         What am I babbling about you may ask.  Well go ahead, ask me.  See if I care.  My attendance record is spotless.  Each and every hour of each and every day I am right exactly where I am.  Never have I failed to be here.  I don’t know the meaning of the word tardy, (or superfluous, or Habeas Corpus) but I can learn. Not all of my synapses are lubricated by gin.  Objection! Sustained.

         But I digress. OH yes, bad Juju.  I remember now. All of these things sit in small and large packages on my porch, delivered there by some unknown employee, whose attendance record we won’t talk about just yet, but suffice it to say, had luck shown up just a little sooner, things would be a lot different today.  Another opportunity missed, a schedule delayed, or a small message light, which should have been blinking but burnt out just moments before the call came in – all of these things – random occurrences?  Affected by the tides, Sun spots?  Or are there mystic shenanigans afoot?  Who’s to say why, just at that exact moment you had the urge to sneeze, causing your car to veer slightly, resulting in your failure to clip that annoying mime as he pretended to cross the street.

         My thoughts, like those of the windsock, keep adjusting to the blowing winds. Not to suggest by any means that I am wishy-washy. Hardly. In spite of my continual change in focus, I am continually also changing my socks. This is key to anyone grounded in shoes; a theory proven by Adenoid Parker, Second General in the First War between the Argyle’s of Kansas and the Wingtip’s of Alabama. Just know that if today you are one who wears shoes, tie or otherwise, you’ve Parker to thank.

        Where was I?  Oh yes, North to North-eastish. (Upper left).  I had no sooner pulled the massive fish onto the boat when there, pulling up along side, was the Lake Marshall.  He inspected my fishing license while I peeked down at his footwear. Here was a starched and pressed Marshall, highly polished head to cuff, but then flippers, as if at any moment he might dive in and swim away.  I wanted to question him about it but not until he handed my license back to me.  Something was off, I could tell.

        “Heck of a fish you have there” he said as he handed my license back.  Yes, I replied, looks to be a new record for the lake.  He didn’t say anything.  He just kept looking at the fish and then back at me – at the fish, and then back at me.  It was starting to feel very awkward.  So is there anything else I can help you with today?  He looked at me and mumbled something as he turned back into his boat.  His giant blue flippers making his movements unbalanced to say the least.  He pulled the throttle into gear and putted off over that way.

        That evening, as I sat at the counter of Austin’s Café, home of the World Famous Tuna Melt, I told Austin about my encounter with the lake Marshall and how odd I found his behavior.  Without prompting, he asked me if the Marshall was wearing his blue swim fins when I saw him.  I explained that he was indeed wearing them, and other than the fins, he was in full uniform.  Austin didn’t reply, but reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of Yukon Jack and two small glasses.  I, of course made no comment about him not having a liquor license, but simply accepted the gesture and we both had a strong snort.

        “Anything I should know?” I asked Austin as soon as the burning in my throat stopped.  Austin looked around as if he wanted to make sure no one else was listening.  “What are you doing?  We’re the only ones in here.” I said.  Austin said that he was just making sure and then proceeded to tell me about the street mime that almost got clipped today at the intersection of Hamlin and University.  “I’ve seen that guy.  He’s very annoying.”  That annoying mime is the Marshall’s son-in-law. The Marshall hates him and says that if he ever catches him mime fishing he’ll haul him in. I didn’t say anything; I just shook my head and slid my empty glass toward Austin.  He took the hint and refilled both glasses.

        “So, did you have any luck out on the lake today?” Austin asked just before downing his beverage.  Let me tell you something about luck, my friend.  It comes in small and large packages, delivered to my porch by an employee…  But Austin held up his hand, signaling me to stop.  I did.

        “What is it?” I asked.  “Be careful, he cautioned, the guy who delivers the packages around here is Norm, the lake Marshall’s cousin.  “You don’t want to let people around here hear you speaking poorly of Norm.  He fought in the Great War.  On the side of the Argyles I believe. To this day he still refuses to wear shoes”

        “Sorry, I didn’t know.” I said as I once again slid my empty glass in front of Austin.

        “Did I tell you about the fish I caught today?”

 

        Austin shook his head no as he poured us another.