Lester, who works back on the loading dock, hasn’t had the best of winters.
His girlfriend, Sabrina, broke up with him right after Christmas. Apparently, the customized bowling ball he got her didn’t say, “I love you” as much as Lester thought it would. And of all things, she came by work to tell him the bad news.
“Lester,” she said. “I’ve got something to tell you and I don’t think you’re going to understand.”
“Why?” He responded. “Does it involve math?”
We really can’t blame Sabrina. Understanding Lester is like trying to fold a fitted sheet. No one really knows how to do it. Anyway, she kept the math simple and went on to explain that he no longer had a plus one. Lester couldn’t understand her impulsive decision. To his thinking, he had everything a woman looked for in a man. He bathed regularly and was lice free. But, he took it honorably and told her to keep the bowling ball. She did.
Lester’s side business also went belly up.
Last summer, the Board of Mayor and Aldermen passed an ordinance allowing Watervalley residents within the town limits to have their own chickens. For that bunch of bozo’s it was a landmark piece of legislation. Normally, they just tax everything, including your patience.
Anyway, Lester got the bright idea to start a chicken kennel for when folks go on vacation. He put a new coat of paint on one of his sheds and printed up a few fliers. Lo’ and behold, he got a bunch of takers over the Christmas break and was at full capacity.
He called his hen hotel The Poultry Palace. Unfortunately, the neighbor’s yellow lab, Boomer called it his happy place. Lester got home from work only to discover that Edith Scribner’s two prize chickens, Feather Locklear and Laying Godiva, had gone on to the great chicken coop in the sky. Ellen Schofield’s two chickens, Henifer Anniston and Audrey Henburn were a little roughed up and Mack Lofton’s rooster, Pullet-Sir Prize, was so shaken he probably needed therapy. Meanwhile, Boomer was feeling pretty good about himself. Whenever he struts by, all the neighborhood dogs shout, “Sup, player.”
A reception for the dearly departed chickens was held at Edith’s house and all the Watervalley neighbors brought food, carefully avoiding deviled eggs and chicken salad sandwiches. Lester did the right thing and paid for the burial of the two lost hens (at least, what was left of them) out at Cedar Hill’s Pet Cemetery. It was a rather rainy afternoon. We understand that Edith said a few tearful words and that the whole affair was tastefully done, with all those present politely not commenting about the foul weather. Lester even sprung for the river stone markers with custom engraving.
So, between the funerals and the customized bowling ball, Lester’s savings have pretty much been wiped out. But Lester’s not one to stay down for long. He lives at his grandmother’s place. She left it to him after she passed a few years back. Lately he’s been talking about digging the dirt out of the old coy pond and come spring, turning it into a carp petting zoo. Apparently, hope springs eternal.
Ah, that Lester. We love him, even if the camera doesn’t.
Meanwhile, stop by the Farmer’s Co-op when you can and we’ll get you fixed up with all your indoor starter seed kits for this year’s garden. And if you get a chance, say hi to Lester. We realize he’s short-witted and long-winded, but he could use some cheering up.
Stay hopeful, spring will be here before you know it!