Hick went to the auction last night. He was a little late coming home. I heard him moving around upstairs at 10:45. Yes. I'm sure it was him. I looked up the stairs and saw the reflection of the bedroom light on the living room wall. You probably could have seen it where you live, too, because he put five of those twisty 20,000 watt light bulbs in the ceiling fan fixture over our bed. Anyhoo...I knew that Hick came home late, and that he turned off the TV, and went straight to bed.
Sometimes Hick comes to the steps and tells me about his bargains (surely you don't think Hick goes to the auction just to watch) and what he narrowly missed because somebody ran up the bid just because they knew he wanted it. I guess the auction world of Hick is kind of like those storage locker bidding shows. Last night, though, Hick did not come share any treasures with me.
(Though after the fact, he said he got a railroad watch for $5 to display in his Train Shack.)
This morning, I was woken by "AAGGHHHHH!" Yes. It was Hick. Not a ghost. It was Hick, sitting on his side of the bed, where he finds it necessary to put on his shoes every morning, jouncing me like a jolly good fellow in a blanket toss.
"What's wrong with you?"
"I hurt my leg last night. I was helping Bud carry out a table, and I hit the edge of the rug and tripped. I stumbled forward--"
"Did you fall? On your knees?"
"No. I caught myself, but I heard a POP. It was in my leg. The left one. Here. Where my butt meets my leg."
"I don't know what would pop there. Is there a knot? Maybe you tore a muscle."
"I think I really hurt myself this time. I didn't think I was going to make it to the car. On the way home, I was having waves of hot and cold go through me."
"You should probably go to the doctor. I don't know what they can do for that, though."
"I could go to Urgent Care, but they're just going to send me for tests. And nobody's going to do a test until at least Monday."
"They won't even give you anything for pain these days."
"I took a couple of those pills I take every day."
"Prescription? What do you take? You can't just double up on a prescription!"
"No. That other stuff. That I get at the pharmacy. Aleve. That's it."
"You can't take too much of that!"
"It's not working anyway. I can barely get around."
"Do you want my cane? The one I got from my mom? Or that one I used to use from my grandma, that wooden one? When I hurt my knee..."
"I have canes out in one of the sheds."
[A CANE SHACK IS ON THE HORIZON, I THINK]
"What are you doing today?"
"Well, I have this guy from work coming to cut up a tree that blew down. I told him he could have the wood. I guess I'll just sit on the tractor and lift it in his truck with the bucket."
"If you can get up on the tractor."
"I know. It about killed me to sit on the toilet."
"I'm pretty sure I know what would make you feel better. Sitting on a stool at the casino!"
"No! I couldn't sit on that!"
Let the record show that Hick spent the morning sitting on a chair on the deck, supervising the tree man's kids in Poolio. Then he took Neighbor Tommy to town. In between, I made him a bologna sandwich for lunch, and served it to him in his La-Z-Boy. With Loaded Baked Potato chips on the side, and a bottle of Diet Mountain Dew. I kind of felt sorry for him.
Hick doesn't need to know that the cheese on his sandwich was an individually wrapped slice of Marvella that expired in October 2016. Let the record show that the pack had not been opened, and it looked perfectly fine. And that Marvella is the Save A Lot brand of Velveeta.
I'm hoping Hick starts feeling better in a couple of days. HE HAS THE WHOLE WEEK OFF!