How Those Rumors Get Started...

“Busted flat in Baton Rouge, wait’in for a train…”

“Talbot’s Peak.”

“What?”

Wilber looked to his friend, Beano, at the other end of the bench and wondered, once again, how they continued to travel together. “We’re in Talbot’s Peak, dude. Not Baton Rouge.”

“Okay, busted flat in Talbot’s Peak, wait’in for a train…”

“A bus.”  Wilber sighed.

“What now, man.”

“This is a bus stop, dude, not a train de-pot.”

“Heh heh…you said pot, man.”

“Oops, I did.  Hey, you got any, Beano?”

“Nah…do you?”

“Gentlemen,” said a young man, both tall and skinny, with inexplicably gray hair. “May I ask what you’re doing here in Talbot’s Peak?”

“Whoa,” Wilber whispered, amazed by the speed of the guy who was now sitting between he and his friend.  “Where did you come from?”

“Who cares about that, Wilb,” Beano slurred.  “You got any?”

“Any what, Sir?”

“Dude, don’t ask…”

“You know, de-pot,” Beano asked.

“Nothing that would work on you humans,” Mr. Gray responded.

Concern now beat at the buzz Wilber had going, though it did nothing for what Beano was flying on considering his friends interest in the bunnies sitting in the grass across from them.  “Did you just say humans…”

“Hey, that bunny just pointed at me.  Now he’s laughing at me, Wilb.  That bunny is laughing at me!”

A high whine escaped Mr. Grey’s lips just like the sound Wilber’s childhood would make when he got excited.  What the heck was with this dude? 

“Hey Bean, we’ve been waiting at this bus stop a long time, let’s just start walking.”  Wilber stood, reached around the weird guy and grabbed his friend’s coat.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Grey spoke after Wilber and Beano had walked a few feet down the road
heading out of town.  “Can you tell me why you thought this was a bus stop?”

Wilber turned back and pointed to the sign of a dog with an X beneath it.  “That’s a greyhound, right.  So this must be a bus stop.”

“Ah, I understand.”

Mr. Grey stood, then dropped to all fours and became a dog.  Not just any dog though, he had all the curves and long legs of a racing dog, a greyhound like the signed showed.  With a quick look back at Wilber, the dog smiled and took off after a now panicked bunny.

“Wilb?”

“Yeah, Bean,”

“I think we’ve been smoking too much.”

“Yeah, or not enough.”

Beano nodded and started singing again. “He did the mash…”

“How about we double time it, Bean?”

“Good idea, Wilb, good idea.”
~~~

As quoted by Lee Hays…"I don’t know where the poop these ideas come from…"

And I totally agree with the awesome Hays!  Have a great weekend.

Serena