Maintenance Man
I called Gloria in Shreveport on Friday.We swapped keyrings because I didn't have a key to her car, and she takes mine on road trips.
"I have a few questions," I said.
"Go ahead."
"First off, what is up with this keyring? How many keys can you jam onto this thing?"
"I need all those," she said.
"Why? What are you--a jailer?"
"There aren't that many."
"And they're huge," I said. "Did Fischer-Price opened up a hardware store called My First Key?"
"How are the plants doing?" she asked, cleverly Tivoing the conversation through the key segment.
"About the plants," I said. "Taking care of them is more complicated than I thought."
"Complicated? All you have to do is water them."
"Well, the whole 'watering' concept is kind of a dark art, isn't it? I have no idea how you look at a plant and tell how much water it needs. Do you use a pentagram? Is there some kind of ritual involved?"
"Good grief," she said.
"I have a question about the pink flowery plants on top of the thing on the deck," I said. "I watered them, but one suddenly popped up four or five inches in its pot after I gave it a good soaking."
"That's because those are dried," she said.
"Good, because that whole popping thing looked entirely unnatural. I was going to recommend you get rid of that one."
A dark art, I tell you.
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