Backroads Used To Be a Quiet Little Town

I saw a headline in the local paper today. Something about an employee shooting the boss. Of course I clicked on it. Wouldn't you? That's almost as good as the head in the septic tank. We're a regular wild west gunslingin' frontier town these days.

Apparently the employee was confronted by the boss, about who knows what. It's not like our Backroads reporters are in the running for a Pulitzer. They do good to get the what and where. And yes, I meant to write "good" instead of "well." One of those reporters might be reading this, you know. And I don't want to slow them down.

When I saw the name of the business establishment, I chuckled. To myself, or course. It wouldn't do for Val to be laughing maniacally all by her lonesome. This incident happened at the place where Genius goes to sell his scrap metal. Not by choice, of course. But because it's the only place around here open on the weekend. The preferred scrap business is owned by a guy of some religious affiliation that does not condone work on Saturdays. So throughout the school year, when Hick and Genius had scrap for Genius to haul around and sell just to get a cut of Hick's action, he went to this shooting gallery.

The boss wasn't hurt too severely, I suppose. Something went through his shoulder. I'm waiting to see the comments on the online article. The first time he went there, Genius said, "That's a front for something else." Yeah. He's a regular Sherlock. All the kids at school know that. One even said his grandpa took an old junker there, and the dude asked if he had the title. Nope. So the dude assured him he would crush that junker today.

I've a good mind to email the link to Genius. I think he'd get a laugh out of it. And be thankful that he still has two good shoulders.