“What do I care if they didn’t choose me,” Herb said. “Bunch of nonsense anyway. Whoever heard of a focus group anyway?”
“I did,” Bert said. “It’s an amalgamation of common, run-of-the-mill consumers who are bribed to think for an hour. Wish they’d have asked me.”
“Free lunch in the back room.”
“They didn’t pick me, either, fellas,” Dud said, “but they picked my wife. Anita was really looking forward to it. I don’t even know what it’s about.”
“Worms,” said Bert.
“May my pants fall down in church if I’m lyin’. It’s worms. They’re talking about worms.”
Herb got up and picked up his check. “I’m leaving. Can’t stay in here a minute longer, knowing they’re in that room having lunch.”
Dud and Bert got up, too. The three paid and went out the front door into the spring sunshine.
“Reminds me,” said Bert, “of the time the preacher went into the bar and ordered a glass of whiskey and a glass of water…”
“Hush … so everybody in this bar was watching, see, ‘cuz the preacher was known to hate booze. He looked at the patrons and said, ‘I want to show you guys what happens with alcohol!’ And he pulls an earthworm out of his pocket.
“’Look what happens when I immerse this little fella in God’s pure water,’ said the preacher. And he dips him in the water and the worm comes out all wiggly and clean. ‘And now,’ said the preacher, ‘see what happens to him when I put him in the Devil’s brew!’
“And he stuck that worm in the whisky and he stiffened and died instantly. ‘I hope you fellas learned a lesson from this!’ the preacher said, waving the worm about. And in the back, this old drunk yelled, ‘You bet, Reverend. Man drinks enough whiskey, he’ll never get worms!’”
Brought to you by the new CD “Having Fun in New Mexico,” Fifteen stories by Slim Randles. www.slimrandles.com.