Sunday, February 22, 2009

The Things I Do for You

It's hard to write for this blog, mainly because I seem to shut down every time I try to write humorous fiction (the main reason I started this thing in the first place). However, I feel bad when I fail to write something on a weekly basis. Still, it's hard to find time to sit and write something solely for this site, so I found a compromise: I have become a dork. The following is an ad I put up on Mountain View Freecycle for some rebar I no longer need (and, in fact, never needed). As you can plainly see, I am doing double-duty by making it suitable for this blog.

OFFER: Rebar! Rebar! Rebar!

You heard me: REBAR. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “Well, heck I need a bunch of rebar.” This is your lucky day. Or night. Or whenever you’re reading this ad.

I am in possession of ten pieces (yes, TEN!) of three-foot-long, metal rebar. You heard me, the THREE-FOOT-LONG kind. It’s not that five-foot-long kind that has been blamed for global warming. It’s not that one-foot-long kind you can only use for illegal plastic surgery (not that I would ever THINK of doing such a thing). This is the good kind. It’s the famous three-foot-long rebar you can use for...

Um.

Well, you can use rebar for a lot of things. However, you certainly wouldn’t want to thread it through chicken wire to make a fence for your herb garden. Oh, no. Your wife and contractor will both tell you how dangerous it is, even though you can’t imagine how anyone would fall and hurt themselves on rebar. Then you’d have to yank it up and put in the right kind of posts, which are much more dangerous than simple rebar. And while you’re pounding the new posts into the ground with your wife’s ten-pound dumbbell because you don’t have a sledge hammer and you don’t want to go buy a new tool you’re only going to use once and you whack the heck out of your thumb in front of the infant so you can’t even scream just like that scene in Frank Herbert’s novel “Dune” so you just bounce up and down and squeeze your thumb like it’s going to do any good until you can get a band-aid around it like that ever does anything and....

Anyway, don’t do that.

I have placed the rebar on the driveway of our house in an attractive pattern that will remind you of a wheat sheaf from one of Van Gogh’s paintings if, you know, you were on drugs or something. Feel free to pick them up any time; no need to knock or anything.

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