At the bakery with the easing of Covid restrictions things are getting back to normal. Coffee is being communally dispensed and social distancing is being eased. But there is still some trepidation. As a vocal anti-vaxer approached the table one health conscious proponent whipped out what appeared to be a small automatic pistol and as he pointed it at Rabid AntiVax, four other patrons hit the deck expecting a spray of slugs. Instead there was just a loud beep.
“It’s just my Infra Red Thermometer! I’m just making sure AntiVax isn’t showing symptoms of the plague,” explained Quick Draw as he reholstered his piece.
“After all if he won’t take his shot or wear a mask, we have to take steps to protect ourselves,” he added as the table occupants having remounted their seats did the Hooterville Hop, moving their chairs a little out of range of potential infection.
AntiVax settled in slurping his coffee, blissfully unaware of the discomfort and perhaps Covid he was spreading around the group. The conversation on boats resumed.
“The price on decent boats has skyrocketed,” ranted Rick. Rick is our retired OPP, “wannabe Mountie”. He is a trained observer. His most persistent observation is, “Since I was told I had been a top OPP Recruit, I’ve always wondered Great Zounds, what were the other candidates like?”
“I went and looked at that premium skiff your brother wanted to sell…. Premium scrap aluminum,” Rick directed at Pickle.
“How many times did it have to hit the pier to crumple the bow like that?” he wondered his voice thick with scorn as he slopped a quarter of his overfilled coffee cup onto the table top.
“Oh you could pound those little dents out, tighten up a few rivets, and silicone it up. Good as new!” breezed Pickle as he glanced at his coffee cup and searched the faces around the table looking hopefully for a victim who might be willing to get up and do the refill round. It was hopeless so he reluctantly moved his chair back and headed for the coffee pot.
“Don’t forget to bring the creamers and put on another pot,” I offered helpfully. A look of scorn spoke volumes back at me.
“… and that unit you sent me to inspect nearly killed me!” Rick directed at AntiVax, his lip quivering in barely suppressed rage.
“Why didn’t you tell me that fence was electrified? It must have been a two inch arc that zapped me when I stepped a straddle it to look at the boat!” snorted Rick recalling the shocking experience.
“Well I did have it set on ‘stun’ to keep the bears away from the garden,” explained AntiVax completely unconcerned to the well being of others.
“Stun! It knocked me down and I believe it left burn marks. I’ll have to use my shaving mirror to examine the area,” he related as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“But you know my arthritis does seem to be a bit better,” he mused as he pushed his cup over towards Pickle for a refill.
Pickle sighed and heaved himself up. No point in fighting the inevitable.
