land dispute proves fortuitous

I recently acquired 20 wooden barrels from the settlement of a land dispute. Eight oak, seven cedar, some purpleheart, and a handful constructed of planks from the critically endangered Mersawa tree. The land dispute arose, as they so often do, as an offshoot of a heated exchange over the merits of public transportation of the (255, 216, 0) persuasion in communities lacking protein-based, spontaneously combustible fuels. I found my way into this particular offshoot, as I am wont to do, after drinking long and luxuriously for the better part of an afternoon with my Persian neighbor Sampson. The fervor of the exchange appeared to be directly proportional to the rate at which Sampson and I consumed our Persian yogurt sodas. We digressed into the roofing of the school buses that passed about town each morning. Sampson was of the opinion that the white roofing was a clever ploy to disguise the inevitable seagull feces that littered the local bus yard and buses, thereby reducing the need to for regluar cleanings and alleviating the municipal tax burden that had been placed on the citizenry. Awash in a filthy mind-bending sea of Persian yogurt sodas, I stuck to my guns, demanding at a rather loud, and at times inappropriate, volume that the white roofing clearly was used because said color would stand out most clearly amongst the inferno and billowing smoke once the bus had rolled into the ravine and burst into flames. When Sampson’s man servant once again arrived to freshen up the yogurt sodas, my Persian friend instructed him to settle the matter for us. Always the resourceful man servant, Farookh promptly returned with another round of the intoxicating quaffs and the requested information, which I submit here:

pg. 76 – notes that a white roof is optional on school buses within this district

pg. 4 - outlines an elementary student’s hypothesis of the color white absorbing less heat than standard roof colors

http://www.gadoe.org/DMGetDocument.aspx/Georgia%20School%20Bus20Specifications.pdfp=6CC6799F8C1371F6CC5B1631475805BB52E820C868EDDC3FA764C0BDD3A5405E&Type=D pg. 22 – posting from Georgia’s Department of Education noting that white bus roofing can be used to aid in heat dissipation

This was, I shouted at Sampson and his limp-wristed man servant, “the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s white-painted-back”, taking an intoxicated glee in my reference to their homeland’s preferred method of transportation. After loudly accusing Farookh of being unable to objectively rule on the subject and using various means of middle eastern sorcery to steer the debate into his master’s favor, I threw down the gauntlet. And by that I mean the better part of a gallon of Persian yogurt sodas exited my belly via nose and mouth, to be deposited at the feet of my stunned audience. Needing nary a moment to compose myself, I stomped off and immediately returned, triumphantly perched atop the riding lawnmower, much to the continued amazement of Sampson and the poor Farookh. Still hopelessly within the grasp of the powerful beverages that now lay splattered about the neighbor’s lawn, I careened up and down the length of the Persian’s property, snake-like swaths of freshly manicured grass providing a fair and accurate assessment of the state of my sobriety. Sampson looked on in silence, painfully aware that under Persian drinking rules once a man had vomited on another’s lawn after an invigorated debate, that man was entitled to whatever land he could mow before falling off the tractor. Myself, I managed to make a handful of passes before succumbing to the call of slumber…

But once again, I digress. We were discussing my fine barrels I recently acquired… You see, in exchange for returning the narrow strip of the Persian’s property, Sampson compensated me to the tune of these 20 wooden barrels you see before you now. The cunning Sampson had arranged to have them thrown in as part of the deal in which he acquired the man servant Farookh, as a way to “sweeten the pot” as it were. But that is a story for another time. At any rate, they are mine now, and I treasure them.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

My grandfather was a cooper. Family lore has it that he used to make barrels out of the "non-believers." Too bad you didn't get one of those barrels. They would have to leak like a bitch though.