Demonic farts from hell

Today was kind of wierd.  It started with one of our favorite drivers honking away 15 minutes before our pickup time. 

I went outside.  That's very unusual for her. 

She rolled down the window.  "Our pickup's in 15 minutes" I told her. 

The driver took a breath, and started to speak, but the woman in the backseat began raving at me.  "Some of us have appointments" etc. 

Well, that's not my fault.  I went with the Bible "He answered not a word" Matthew 27:14

I just looked at her, baffled, and went back in the house.  I don't have to come out for 20 minutes.  I'm doing you a favor if I come out early. 

I went back in, told Ron.  I won't repeat what he said, except for "You can take out the wheelchair". 

We have the oddest conversations sometimes "Are we a wheelchair?"  Today, we were a wheelchair.  I took it out, the driver set it up. 

Then, while waiting on Ron to come out, outside the cab, talking to the driver, I witnessed the awful sight of Baby Girl eating roadkill.  How disgusting. 

And I kiss her! 

We had an uneventful ride and later, the driver told us the cranky woman thought we were really nice.  I'm glad I didn't say anything. 

We got our supplies, a lot of them, then waited for over an hour past out pickup time on the ride.  We did get a good ride, but a very short time at work.  I did manage to stock almost everything in the limited time I had. 

Another wait, not too bad, to go to the bank.  Ron had to do something.  Then I pushed him, in the wheelchair, which we still had, to the mall. 

We ate, and had ANOTHER long wait on our next ride.  Finally, home, and I was exhausted.  I couldn't wait to take a nap... but the neighbor kids wanted to play "kick the soccer ball into the side of Heather's house" instead. 

I was pretty aggravated.  I thought, I can go yell, but how about I go mow the yard instead?  So, I did that. 

When I finished I made a joke with my other neighbor about sharing a goat.  It could my yard, then his. 

Ron and I chatted a bit and he found some rawhides in the cabinet.  He asked me to take them to the neighbor with a small dog.  I said, sure. 

They looked OK, after all.  No bugs.  The neighbor was thrilled. 

"Heather" Ron said when I got back "Did you warn him about the farting?"  What?  Dogs can't have too much rawhide or they have demonic farts from hell. 

Oh, Ron, I'm tired.  I'm sure he already knows. 

"I have to warn him"  Ron cried.  He already had a beer on board.  "I'm going to go tell him".  Ron staggered off, and told the guy.  I could hear the laughter inside the house. 

Ron came back in, proud and satisfied.  Another marriage saved.  Except, maybe not.  Ron and I are wondering if the guy will tell his lady about the fart issue.  He may "let" her overfeed the rawhide, and then go sleep on the couch as she sleeps in bed with the dog.  Until it gets toxic. 

We can tell ourselves a story about everything.