July 9 2020
“You know it has to be
summer,” said Dud,
“when you see lizards carrying canteens.”
There
were nods of agreement going on around the round table at the
Mule Barn coffee
shop.
“Puts
me in mind,” said Herb, “of that summer back in ’74. You
remember that one?”
Everyone but Dud nodded. In 1974, Dud wasn’t yet a
twinkle of his
parents’ eyes.
“Fried
an egg on the hood of Doc’s car, we did,” said Herb, grinning.
“Sunny side up,
right, Doc?”
“That’s right,” Doc said, “but I wish you had asked me
first. See, you
boys didn’t put any grease on the hood and I thought I’d never
get all that egg
off.”
“Didn’t taste so pretty good either,” said Steve. “Herb
forgot the salt,
and it just … well, it just didn’t taste much like an egg.
Tasted like someone
fried it up on a car hood. But I sure do remember it being hot
that day.”
“How
hot was it, Steve?” asked Dud.
“’Bout
a hundred forty I’ll bet,” said our resident working cowboy
with the walrus
moustache.
“Never
been that hot here,” said Dud.
“Talkin’ ‘bout the hood of that car,” Steve said.
In
this group, the first liar doesn’t stand a chance.
“For
me,” Herb said, “I’ll never forget when it got so hot that
little kids dressed
up like fire hydrants and sat still, hoping a dog’d come by.”
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