Lucille usually drove the creamy yellow Oldsmobile and Ed drove his
white Chevy truck. But since they had
the grand-kids for the weekend, Ed drove them all in the Oldsmobile.
“This
is the poor man’s Cadillac,” he told the grandson and granddaughter sitting in
the backseat.
They
drove to Lowe’s to look at the latest models of lawnmowers. Ed examined each lawnmower as if he were
choosing between a Michelangelo or a Lorenzetto sculpture. He chose the one he wanted and Lucille pulled
out the credit card. They could have
paid cash, but Lucille liked to funnel every purchase through Visa or
MasterCard.
“How
are we going to get this home?” the granddaughter asked.
“Your
Gramp said it will fit in the trunk,” Lucille said.
Out in the parking lot, Ed took the
screws out of the handles and the top portion folded down neatly.
“That
ought to do it,” Ed said.
“Ed,
that’s not going to fit,” Lucille said.
“Yes
it will.”
“No
it won’t.”
“Yes
it will,” he said as he hefted the mower into the trunk
“No
it won’t Ed.”
“It
will fit.”
“Ed, that thing is too big, the lid won’t
close,” Lucille said. Although the
grandchildren never heard Lucille sing, they did notice her voice rose at least
an octave this time. The grandchildren
exchanged a look, but didn’t speak out loud.
“It’s
going to fit,” he said. Ed brought the
lid down gently and it wouldn’t quite close.
He lifted it again and adjusted the position of the mower. He tried it again, but there was still a gap.
Lucille
peered at the space between the trunk and the lid, “Ed, It won’t fit.”
“It
fits.”
“Ed,
it’s not going to close!”
“Yes
it will!” He slammed the trunk lid down
as hard as possible. The unmistakable
shape of the lawn mower protruded through the once smooth trunk lid.
“I
told you it would fit,” Ed said.
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