Friday, July 27, 2007
(Please start reading from 7/18/07)
Day turns to night and still no chainsaws. It looks like Dusty and the officer are locked in for the night. The Hummers decide to back up down the road. These guys (and gals) are not prone to spend a hot night in their car for a piece or two of dust.
They also realize that even if help comes, they won’t have chainsaws and lights. In addition, the logs probably shouldn’t be thrown down the ravine as it has been a drought and the logs might start a land slide.
Dusty decides to wake up the officer. But first she want to get herself “prettied up” a bit, so she washes her face, combs the knots out of her hair, puts on a little old lipstick, dabs on a little powder, and then a splash of perfume. In her mind, she’s “hot.”
“Officer, officer,” she exclaims.
“Oh, I must have fallen asleep. Sorry about that ma’am. What is going on?”
“Well, the Hummers have left. The sun is setting. I have some ice cream for you. But first you’ll have to tell me your name.”
“I have to get home. My brother will be waiting for me.”
“You can’t leave here. There is still that log across the road.”
“Fine. But I’ll need to call my brother or he’ll worry. He’s not well, and he is afraid of the darkness. Where’s your phone?”
“It is over there, underneath the garbage. But please walk carefully over there and lift up the garbage gently so you don’t disturb anyone.”
The officer walks over to the pile of soup cans and corn husks. The smell is a little hard to take, but the possibility of having some contact with the outside world is enough to take his mind off his current situation.”
He excitedly picks up the phone only to realize that there is no dial tone.
“How long has it been since you made a phone call?”
“Last time was when I called Softy on his last day of work. I guess I haven’t paid the bill for awhile. You know, Softy was a good man but he wasn’t much of a provider. He didn’t leave me anything.”
“Your choices are limited,” Dusty philosophized, “how about if you tell me your name.”
“It’s Augusta. I was born in August and my dad stuttered and stammered, and when they asked him my name for the birth certificate all that he could say was “it’s August” since I was born in August and my dad wasn’t given his share of brains anyway but I like the name okay. How about you? Do you like the name?” the officer said, forgetting for a moment why he was at Dusty’s house and trying to make the best of the situation.”