| 4 Roses Pizza |
| Twas startin’ off to be the ordinary, let’s go get pizza Friday. We’d gotten into a rut, same place, same pizza, same road. Time fer a change. Now mind ya, none o this woulda happened what we had had ourselves a vehicle. We lived seven miles out of town on the old Lincoln highway, on a farm set back off the road over a small hill. To sate our weekly pizza need required us to trek up and over a quarter mile road to the highway. From there it was all a rule of thumb. Getting rides from country to town twarn’t much problem but to make it all the way to Coe college and the pizza joint ‘cross the street sometimes took a bit. We always made though, and the return was just as tricky. However, it was getting to be a bore. Having nothing but time, and a major hankering fer pizza, we decided to forego the usual and beeline it for the other side of town. Leonardo’s has good pizza and was only ten miles or so further. Getting there was the proverbial snap o’ the fingers. Twas the gittin back what made the evening a little different. We pointed the thumbs toward home and jumped in the car when it stopped. There we were, seven sardines, one bottle of 4 roses and one hard hat, weaving through the maze of streets toward destiny. The ride was uneventful. All we had to do was follow the rules of the car. When the bottle came round, ya takes a swig. Whoever had the hard hat on, was leader of the car. Course, every one wanted ta be head o da car, so’s the bareheaded ones would wallop the hard hat on whosever head it happened ta be on. Not having much of a lust for power, I politely declined the offer of wearing the power hat. And tain’t hard ta fake throwing down a few swigs o’ the booze. For reasons unknown at the time, this little group of playful thugs decided to take a slight detour. After traversing the gravel road fer a bit, the manic machine came to rest. As a group, the well-preserved thugs exited the vehicle to empty out the first part of the bottle to leave room to finish the rest of it. It was the pizza boys good fortune that one of these thugs offered us the warning that the rest of the group needed more money for liquid refreshment, and that we were to be their bank. Not really happy with their choice of withdrawal methods, we offered them an alternative. They believed us when we told them that if they would only deliver us to our little domicile, we would acquire funds for them. The deal was struck. Seeing as the hour was late, we asked them to park alongside the highway whilst we walked to the house. Seeing the size of the house, and able to watch us walk up the hill towards it, their thirst and greed was very happy with the terms. We walked towards home. Course, we weren’t totally honest with these guys. The house we pointed at and indeed headed towards, was the neighbors. Having visited there on many occasions, I knew about the rack of guns he kept near the back door. I also suspected that he might get a little irate being awakened at 3 am. Shoulda hung out my shingle as a prophet. I nailed that theory dead on. We did indeed head for his house, but upon reaching it, walked past and down the hill towards home. Procuring a set of bed irons, the two halves of a frame, we stood at the end of the driveway and waited. Shore nuff, a half hour later, there came the lights at the top o the hill. Yep, them dadblamed drunks really wanted that cash withdrawal. Now given the racket that ensued shortly thereafter, we assumed that this little bank transaction did not get completed in the manner desired. Can’t prove it though, the neighbor never mentioned it, and we never saw the 4 roses hard hats again. |