Benille Vanilli

Some days, I'm not really sure what Hick is telling me. That's how he talks, you know. And sometimes even emphasizes, "I'm just telling you!" Hick is one of those people who butt in, and continue to talk over somebody, not necessarily respecting organic pauses, or the give-and-take concept of a conversation. Most often when his conversation partner is Val.

I'd stopped by the BARn on Wednesday afternoon, because I saw Hick driving across the field, and I had a pair of tubey things for him. They're not as good as my original tubey thing, but I found them on Amazon and got them within two days. I'd show a picture, but Hick spirited them away forthwith to his Storage Unit Store.

Anyhoo...the minute I pulled T-Hoe into the field, Hick drove his TrailBlazer over in front of the BARn, and ran inside. Huh. That's a fine how-do-you-do! I hollered to see what he was up to. You never know. He might have been running to hide from me!

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Going to get some oil."

Well. A couple days ago, I mentioned to Hick how T-Hoe is falling apart. His driver's side mirror doesn't fold in and out automatically anymore. I close up the mirrors to get in and out of the garage. Oh, I could make it with them out. But if Hick is ever going to spirit T-Hoe away while I'm still snoozing, I don't want the mirrors out.

Hick broke off the right one backing out a few years ago, after a short stop by the homestead for medicine when I was being rushed to the city hospital from the Backraods hospital in the back of an ambulance with multiple bilateral pulmonary embolisms. And when I was released three days later, he tried to tell me that a vehicle on the hospital parking lot hit it. Then confessed to his intended insurance scam. Which is neither here nor there, merely a rabbit trail to reveal why Hick was running for the oil. For T-Hoe's wonky side mirror.

Hick informed me that he was on his way to the Storage Unit Store. He showed me a picture of his wares (that I shared yesterday).

"Oh. You haven't sold your Grandfather Clock."

"No. I've had a lot of people look at it."

"I'm sure they're not planning on buying a big item when they stop by. Maybe with Christmas coming up, somebody might want it."

"Yeah. I put it on Buy/Sell/Trade. With my Vanilli I've been trying to sell."

"Has anybody looked at it?"

"Yeah. Two people wanted to know more. One guy said his brother-in-law has been looking for one. Since duck season is about to start."

"Wait. What? Why would he need a Grandfather Clock for duck season?"

"Not the clock! The Vanilli."

"Oh. Well. We were talking about the clock."

"YOU were talking about the clock. I was talking about the Vanilli."

"WHAT is a Vanilli?

"A shotgun! B-e-n-i-l-l-e. It's a 12-gauge. Shoots a 3-and-a-half inch shell, when most of them shoot a 2-and-a-half to 3-inch shell. Costs around $600. I want to sell mine for $400."

Let the record show that when I looked it up, the true spelling of Vanilli/Benille is Benelli. You're welcome. Oh, and the oil that Hick was getting for T-Hoe's mirror? Was a can of WD40 with that straw sprayer thingy.

I'm pretty sure this conversation tells you no more about us than you already knew...