FLY WRANGLER....by Linda Moore
It was Monday morning and a group of bleary-eyed fans gathered in the hotel lobby. We were all in various stages of con-zeimers disease.
We'd been telling "true" stories and I told one from my beloved father-in-law who passed away Jan, 1995. Jake worked for a gas and oil drilling company. His job was to buy land rights where the company wanted to "sink a well." He often had to travel to rural areas of Southwestern Pennsylvania and West Virginia.
His company had drilled a test hole on the land of an older, very rural, gentleman. They went down 5000 feet but found nothing which is often the case. The old guy asked the company to move his outhouse over the dry hole so he wouldn't have to ever dig another "pit". [For those of you who don't know what an outhouse is, it's an outdoor toilet - use your imagination.]
Some time later, Jake was in the area and went back to check on the man. He was saddened to hear that the old guy had passed away. He talked with the man's grandson who told him what had happened.
"I found him in the outhouse." [Historical note: At this point in the story, most people would start to snicker but not me. I was absorbed in the story].
The grandson continued, "I think I know what happened. Granddad always held his breath until he heard 'it' hit the bottom."
It was only then that I realized I'd been "had" by one of the best. But that was not the first or only time. It's happened since. So, I'm naive.
Everyone in our little group got quite a chuckle, not only from the story but from my gullibility.
We went on to other subjects. I had my back to the registration desk and hallway. Not too much time had passed and Nora Leverson said, "I'm getting worried. I just saw a guy pass back and forth wearing rubber gloves and carrying a whip or something." I was too tired to turn around.
Jamie Murray said, "Oh, that's a fly wrangler." I turned to him and asked what that was. "Haven't you seen the size of the flies here? " Nora added, "They're like horse flies."
"But why do they call them fly "wranglers" and what do they do with a whip?" I asked trying to figure this out.
Jamie said, "Well, it's like horse wranglers. They use the whip like that to, I guess, herd them."
I accepted that. Sounded reasonable. Quite a bit of time passed and all of a sudden Jamie turned very seriously to me and said "Linda, there are no fly wranglers." He and everyone in our circle began laughing hysterically and I realized that I had been "had" again. Not by just one person this time, but by a whole group. I was in hysterics, incredulous that everyone had kept quiet for so long and that I was clueless.
OK, so I'm gullible. Couldn't we turn this into an endearing quality, please?
Maybe I'm just trusting (grin)?
|If you have a 'Myhrth' story please e-mail me and I will put it on this page... ...but no x-rated stories please!|