No news-bad news

LOSERS

 

Morning was still dragging its feet as I woke and felt in my bones a chilly drizzle of rain. Putting my flannel robe over my flannel nightgown I went downstairs to get the morning paper from the front lawn. It wasn't where it should be. I spotted it on Adele's lawn, which is where is shouldn't be, never was. It was laying there in a puddle of water. When I lifted it, the water already inside the plastic cover ran into my foam bedroom slippers. My few expletives were heard by noone but made me feel a bit better.

 

The regular delivery man, Wally, has been driving to my curb and tossing the Cincinnati Chronicle  on the edge of my lawn for about six years must have flipped out. Walking a straight line to Adele's lawn, forgetting the chill and the wet slippers, I headed for my electric percolator that had performed its usual perfect job, thought about what to have when it's strong aroma forced me to decide on my 'go with.' This or that, white packaged bread toasted with a shmeer of butter or a pumpernickel bagel, lightly toasted covered with a thick coating of Philadelphia cream cheese, topped with raspberry preserves. In one fantasy I see myself getting fatter and fatter.

 

The other is gray, dismal. My choice is simple and expected. After only one tasty bite, there's a knock on my front door. It has to be Adele's knock as it is more like a fairy tap. I give my face a swipe to be sure none of the raspberry goop is still on my face.  As soon as I crack the door a speck, Adele pushes it open and says loudly and with anger in her voice, 'Where is my morning Cincinnati Chronicle?' With the same sort of anger in my voice I ask, 'Since when did you get the Chronicle? Don't think that in all the years

I've been getting it, I haven't seen you taking mine out of my trash can now and then. Wally must have been on a toot or something and tossed mine on your grass.' 'Wrong, Neighbor,' Adele fires back. 'I ordered daily deliveries starting this morning last Tuesday so you have MY paper.'

 

My delicious bagel starts to do somersaults in my belly and I tell her to take that oft said command, 'take a long walk on a short pier' and held on to the paper. 'Adele, call the paper, click on #1 and you'll reach the Service number. Tell them what happened and they'll send you a dry paper within the hour. In the interval, you can have mine for local news when I'm thru with it, but the puzzles and Saduko will be finished. Which choice do you want?'

 

In no uncertain terms, her angry face red, she grabs my paper and goes back in her house. I call Service myself and explain that I didn't get my paper and Wally put mine on Adele's lawn. The Chronicle Service woman can find no record of Adele's order, send me a new one that doesn't arrive until 4 in the afternoon.

 

Adele and I haven't spoken since, don't think we ever will. In fact, I took the lead, canceled the Cincinnati Chronicle and now get the Cincinnati Forward which is brought right to my door and left where I can reach it rather than go out on a drizzly or snowy morning.

 

It has been a almost a year and I see Wally drive right past Adele's house. She lied to me, never ordered the Chronicle and my decision to not be a friend to a deceitful liar still stands.