Uninvited Quests

Hick and I are pretty set in our ways. We do our own thing all day, and unofficially check in at night, before supper. Monday evening, I was on the phone with Genius in my dark basement lair when I heard Hick stumping around over my head, as if on ankle bones instead of feet. Nothing new. That's how he walks.

When I ascended from my lair, Hick was suspiciously absent. I set out the leftover chicken pot pie, not wanting to warm it until I knew when to expect him. Just before 7:00, Hick showed up in his orange and white floral print swim trunks. That's odd, because he swims in his blue SpongeBob boxers. Hick said he'd been scrubbing Poolio, with HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) manning the filter thingy and dumping the basket from outside. Funny how now that Poolio is being closed for the winter, Hick decides to clean him up. Anyhoo...that explained the regular swim trunks. Allaying my suspicions that Hick had been entertaining a rural harem (perhaps composed of night-wandering New York heart-broken gals).

I said I was going to warm up supper, and Hick went to take a shower, as he always does after a dip in Poolio. Which seems kind of redundant to me. He came back to the living room a few minutes later, set for the evening, in only his tighty-whities, and reclined in the La-Z-Boy, waiting to be called for supper.

A couple minutes later, I heard a knocking at the front door. Huh. That is very unusual. Nobody belongs up in our labyrinth of gravel roads. We weren't expecting anyone. Hick said, "I don't know if somebody knocked, or if it was one of the dogs wagging their tail."

"Oh, it was a knock." I figured it was probably HOS, back on the 4-wheeler, having forgotten to tell Hick something. I continued dipping out chicken pot pie into bowls for microwaving, separating the top crust to warm in the oven. I assumed that Hick would answer the door, thinking nothing of his tighty-whities, since I'm so used to him running around like that, a scantily-clad king in his castle.

Well, run he did! Hick popped out of the La-Z-Boy and trotted around the short couch and into the bedroom. "Gotta get my pants!" Heh, heh. Never mind that by now, it was 7:30, dusk had fallen, and the inside of the living room was lit up like a department store window, for the viewing pleasure of whoever was at the front door, with its two window panels on each side.

It was some lady on a quest for her lost dog. I heard her voice. Asking Hick if he'd seen a dog. Next thing I know, with chicken pot pie bubbling in the microwave and crust hopefully crisping in the oven, Hick came back inside and said he was driving the Gator down to the creekside cabin, to look for this lady's dog. She had just moved in across the creek from us on Saturday, and she and her husband accidentally backed over their dog's foot. It ran off, and being new here, she was afraid it couldn't find its way home.

Let the record show that our dogs have been barking their fool heads off every night, so they might know something of its whereabouts. Or maybe it came up on the porch to eat their dog food. Anyhoo...Hick didn't find her dog, but we'll keep an eye out for it. Hick said it's black and white, and looks like a collie. So I imagine it's some version of a border collie.

I feel bad for that dog. And maybe a little bit bad for Hick. When he came back in the house, he rang the doorbell. "It works. I don't know why people always knock."

Indeed. I don't know a lot of things. Like why Hick sits around in his tighty-whities.