Carl called again. Carl does this a lot. Someone should plunder that man's telephone. He says "Howdy." One word then he says nothing else. Carl has made a habit of this.
I moved into down the road from Carl about two years ago. Everyone knows one another and Carl considers this communion, this happenstance proximity is consent to take control of telephone lines as if Carl is the most diminutive Genghis Khan in history.
Quickly I asking why he had called. Carl tells me to come over to his house so I could see it for myself. Subterfuge bounces off him like rubber. I walked to his house
Carl's accommodations are about as noisy as Carl's temperament. Celebrating the end of winter he's displaying a giant, decorative groundhog. Gaudy, swaying, it greets me as I head towards his front door. Carl pops out his door before I am able to knock. He has a huge smirk. He pulls me by the crux of my elbow towards the yard. Carl stares upward. I do too. We're both looking up. Things aren't looking up.
I discover the entire reason of my requested presence was so he could show off gutter covers, which he claims keeps leaves out of his gutters. And Carl, finally, was actually onto something.
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