I Promise To Have My Camera
Yesterday my wife, Miranda Kopfschmertzen and I were coming home and decided to stop off at the market for some eating supplies. We went heavy on the soups on this visit in giddy anticipation of autumn and the weather that is sure to follow.
We arrived at the market around 5:30ish. The sun was setting and casting that not-yet-dusk amber glow that hypnotizes. At the entrance of the market was the ever-present Salvation Army representative in his smart red and white suit. This guy must have drawn the all-day shift, because he brought his own chair.
As we passed by, I snuck a glance at The Salvation Dude. His face hung low with the fatigue of a whole day of soliciting Salvation donations. We continued into the market. Half way into the bread isle I realized I forgot to get a cart. So back out I went. The carts were outside near the Salvation Station.
Just before I got the automatic doors, I noticed that the Salvation Guy looked like he was asleep. I skidded to a halt, cartoon style, to avoid opening the automatic doors. I inspected further. Oh yeah, that dude was totally asleep. I couldn’t blame him. He had the setting sun warming his back and it is not like holding a bucket is riveting for five minutes, let alone for eight plus hours. What’s more, his head was resting on the bucket and his ample jowl was trying to make a donation. I don’t know if that is tax deductible.
I went out and got a cart and rattled it right by him. This did not rouse him. He was done for the day. (He was still alive though. I checked.)
For this, I apologize to all that I did not have my camera with me and promise that I will always keep it on my person in the future. Because I assure you that the picture would have been much funnier than my description. Seriously, that picture would have been worth 1000 words, and I only gave you 348.
Jowls ARE tax deductible! I checked it. If in service of a non-profit organization, jowls are inherently non-profit! The sticky wicket comes in the determination of the definition of “jowls”, escpecially in the numeration of such. The IRS likes to itemize things, so they are always trying to determine just how many jowls a person has. Is it 2? That is the casual assumption, but as we all know, the IRS sticks the wickets more stickily that we’ll ever be able to wicket. Anyway, I plan wholeheartedly to claim my jowls come April 15. And if it wasn’t for these damn ghosts floating all over my browser, I’d probably have something better to say. But – damnit! – those things are wiggin’ me out!
Could it be the solicitor’s face hung low with fatigue because he’d come to the horrible realization that he works for the Salvation Army? You don’t even get guns to carry in that commission. That’s one suck army.