This story has nothing in particular to do with histo presto, excepting for the Piggly Wiggly. If there is no PW near Baltimore, then frig it! My stories are fictional and therefore full of small and large lumps of BS. The story does have to do with the humor that I have learned to share on BP, and that is why I am posting it. I wrote it over the weekend as an excercise. Please note each pharagraph is 50 words, exactly for a total of 500 words to the story. Unlike Dickens, I do not get paid by the word.

Insurance Renewal
By Gabriel Orgrease

Butcher Farm Insurance has been sending Dala Armfrong multiple envelopes informing her of priority issues in her life, one day her car insurance is cancelled, next renewed, and then they send her a refund then promptly a demand for immediate payment. On some days she receives three or four envelopes.

If she was not away in South Africa at the exclusive safari club, actually, getting a rejuvenating face lift, Dala may consider reading her Butcher Farm mail. As it is, Dala is oblivious of the insurance firm's interest in the priority issues of her life. Dala wants to look young.

Sunflower seed Dala buys in bulk from Agway, Butcher Farm is without this vital information as to her landscape priorities. When Dala returns to Baltimore, looking as renewed as her age will allow, she promptly shreds her accumulated mail for mulch. Her side yard is now planted full with flowers.

Out the kitchen window, idling at the sink with her hands in blooming bubbly suds, past a pepper grinder, blue candle and chubby plaster angel, Dala can clearly see her Mustang in the drive without plates. Surrender, she was advised by the DMV, would set her straight with the world.

Months now yellow and black bees have explored the crevice between the right front shock and low tire. Dala feels deflated by the need to take a county bus to Piggly Wiggly though the regular driver, Fred Shrike has taken to slapping her buttock as she moves past his seat.

South Africa was an expensive trip, much further than the Piggly Wiggly, and Dala wonders if Fred Shrike is worth the expense. He has a nice smile but the missing tooth leaves something behind in Dala's desire though she would go dancing on Friday evening if only he will ask.

Fred Shrike is a moron and cannot take a hint of her exposed cleavage as being the warm invitation that Dala intends. It is now Saturday and Dala is shredding the mail of the past week. When grinding zero interest credit cards the little plastic machine interferes with the television.

Art Linkletter is speaking to Dala about reinstatement of the military draft and the need to insure America for the future. There are technical issues that need to be taken care of here in order to renew the public's faith in shopping. The only recourse is to shred our abundance.

Without the gold standard we must live by blood alone. Nothing has been regular since her lift. Dala's cheeks are puffy, filled with sunflower seeds from the autumn crop. On the bus she is reading the latest offer from Mutual of Minneapolis when Fred Shrike drops dead at the wheel.

With massive coronary precision Mutual of Minneapolis seems to have missed the priority in Dala Armfrong's life. Dala wants a companion. On the day that she gets out of St. Jude's hospital, with all the glass now removed from her face, she stops at the animal shelter for a cat.

01/04/03