Thack You: Let Me Die

larry-thack-picture

Larry Thack’s Firework stand will be open weekends through June in the Ingle’s parking lot

It’s been a tough week for old Thack.
First I got my index finger caught in the safety guard of a mandolin slicer. It didn’t hurt that much, but I use that finger a lot and it was debilitating to say the least. With half of my nail missing I had to use a Civil War-style dressing to stop the bleeding, and I was unable to use that finger to make points, accuse people, type, summon children at the park, and so on. As difficult as all this was, I was more upset by the mob at the senior center who wanted me to see the doctor and score them some pain pills.
In the middle of my healing I cracked a tooth. Someone had left a ziploc bag in the fridge full of croutons. Very strange to see them outside of a commercially acquired box, but also an odd item to take home from a restaurant. I was fully ignored when I asked the other residents about the origin of the croutons and began munching away. The sea-salt had apparently been replaced by a sandy, seasoned gravel mixture and out popped a chunk of my prized teeth. Fortunately no pain with this malady but the real pain was to come. According to someone posing as a friend, it was my tooth that was at fault. At just the humble, mere mention of the loss of a functional, permanent, and pulchritudinous part of my face I was met with eye-rolling and annoyance. Surely I had this coming! Perhaps I should just be quiet and take it! After all, the croutons were just God’s vehicle for humanity’s revenge.
Sitting on a park bench feeding the rats at Huddleston Pond I tried to forget the difficulties of the week. As I kept my finger elevated and scratched at the hole in my tooth with my now injured tongue, I spotted a group of teens all in a bunch crowding around something. I approached to see them all huddled around a girl who was sobbing over the iphone she had just dropped. In an effort to console the girl I commented, “No big deal. It’s just an iphone 4.” In a flash she grabbed my cane and beat me until I waded into the pond for safety. After a prolonged period of harassment she pitched the cane at me and left with her gang. My cane apparently does not float.
My finger has become infected by the pond waters. May the Lord soon take me into his house of mercy.

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Fayette Newspapers  - 210 Jeff Davis Place, P.O. Box 96 Fayetteville, GA 30214 - (770) 461-6317