As she waved her punch card in between Genise and her current customer, demanding immediate attention, the dour faced woman spat, “You DO validate do you not?” through lips pursed so tightly one was reminiscent of the taste of bitter lime.
“Yes, indeed ma’am. We validate for all of our customers.” Genise answered cautiously.
“Well then here, I’m in a hurry.” the woman countered as she thrust the card forward letting it spiral to the floor before Genice could even reach out to meet it.
“I’m currently with a customer. Please enjoy a complimentary beverage if you like, or make yourself comfortable on the divan, I can take care of that for you as soon as we finish up here- or I could ask someone else to take care of that for you now.”
“You can’t just punch my card? It would take you all of what? Ten seconds? And I could be on my way. I. Am. In. A. Hurry. You DO understand what a hurry is don’t you?”
Watching the situation escalate from across the room, one of Genice’s coworkers grabbed the punch tool and hurried over to punch the woman, well, that is, to diffuse the situation.
As the woman turned to leave, Genise’s coworker leaned in with a wink and whispered, “Never fear, we are already burning sage in the back room!! It is NOT going to be one of those days!”
He swung a right at the old barn foundations and slowed, winding down the faded ribbon of the Ole Ginny Combs Road as it laced its way toward the house where he and his would live out their days in the shadow of that fine oak tree- where local yarn would have it, Ginny herself had spent many a warm summer’s day, on an old tire swing, knotted to a low branch, long before life became a ligature, and she found herself a dangling, at the end of her own rope….
Over the course of the summer the neighbors house disappeared behind a hedge of spiral sand heaps each corresponding to a hole of equal but reverse volume.
Our best guess is the neighbor buried something as a method of hiding it from someone they thought may have occasion to look for it, and has in the end succeeded, only in hiding it (and very successfully I might add) from themselves.
Pity is, we’ve grown so much fonder of the Confederacy of Dunce Caps than we ever really were of the neighbor- and odds are- they’re getting close…