I find this scenario highly dubious, however, and am reasonably sure it's not what John was getting at. Of course, odds are, John would be the one pushing up daisies, so there is a chance that this guy, upon gunning down John would have taken his keys and cash and driving to Tomb Stone Arizona in one of the most ill-conceived getaways of all time. I also didn't point out that Boot Hill hasn't been used for new graves in quite some time. I also didn't point out that Boot Hill is in Tombstone Arizona, and they probably wouldn't send a dead guy from Baltimore to Arizona for burial. I didn't point out, that the guy probably wouldn't "draw" and if he did, John probably wouldn’t out draw him, or at least out draw him and keep hold of his six-iron (the pistol, he'd be really screwed if he brought a golf club).
There were allot of flaws in John's plan that I didn't point out. "He's a bad man, and I don't cotton to that! I was gonna shoot 'im, but I'd go to jail, protectin' my property so I figgered, I'd get him real mad, angry, see. Well, a Hampden Cowboy like John isn't going stand for that kind of mistreatment of a lady, specially if'n she's kinfolk! So John tells me, "He slashed her tires," in a voice that is some where between Clint Eastwood, Will Farrell doing George Bush, and Jessica Rabbit with laryngitis. He shows me a new style of gun slinging he's picked up from former Olympian and cowboy great Earnst Von Haffenshclaff (I call him this because a truck went buy and I couldn't make out what John actually said and have long since learned to just roll with these situations and, if forced, spout a platitude like, "You can't trust any of 'em") before sharing an anecdote.Īpparently John's niece ran afoul of her boyfriend and he slashed her tires.
To date, I have not heard of any of them. Generally, when I'm not interpreting threatening legal notes, John quizzes me on my favorite silent film and cowboy picture actors. Of course, he is seventy-nine years old (if the word on the street is to be believed), and those irons ain’t getting any lighter, so he drops them often. John likes to practice fancy spins and trick draws. The collection is accompanied buy a handwritten cross-referenced cataloguing system that is made up of well over one hundred single spaced marble-backed note books and an extensive collection of fully functional old west shootin' irons. The first time I met John, he showed me his extensive collection of Western movies numbering several thousand videotapes and several hundred DVDs.
Right now I can hear the rapid-fire gunshots that can only mean a stagecoach heist is in full swing floating through my window. It went on to say that he should stop arriving in person to collect this debt, as a restraining order has been received. The letter today was informing John his last check would arrive next month to pay off a debt owed to him. It's the interpretation that is becoming difficult. It's not so much the reading he has trouble with. This is a task I am frequently called on to assist with. Today, after establishing his time on the Earth for all passers buy, I was asked to assist in the reading of a letter. It's a haunting reminder of my own mortality.
He can't figure out how to reset his odometer so I doubt he's reading this blog), I also know it will end soon. With my neighbor, who I'll call John (since that's his name. The days about 2 years ago.Ĭhildren engage in this sort of repartee, and it's endearing, because you know it will stop soon. I know this because for about the last month when I've chatted with him he's said, "I'm seventy-nine years old." He used to say, "I'm seventy-eight years old." When I first met him he would say, "I'm seventy-seven years old." Those were the days. Well, my neighbor recently turned seventy-nine years old.