The Horsehide living room was in need of a good cleaning. Soda pop bottles, beer cans, toys and candy wrappers littered the carpet. In the midst of the debris, in a beat-up armchair, sat Herbert Horsehide, totally engrossed in a six week old, pre-recorded football game. A dirty, wrinkled t-shirt barely concealed his paunch as he sipped on a can of beer. Junior, his five-year-old son was on his knees on the filthy carpet, playing with Transformers. “You’re space junk, Autobots. You’ll never escape alive! We have truth and right on our side…Oh, yeah? Well, take that!” Junior began smashing at the Autobots with his Decepticon leader.
As she struggled down the hallway en route to the backyard to hang out a heavy load of freshly washed clothes, Amanda Horsehide heard the ruckus her son was making. Like her friend, Mrs. Dinkle, Amanda was very much opposed to violence. She immediately did an about face and marched into the living room where Junior was still engaged in the epic battle of good versus evil. Amanda was a tall, bony woman and this morning her hair was still in curlers. The furry, pink house slippers on her large feet matched the robe she was wearing. Above the roar of the stadium crowd from the television, Amanda complained loudly to her husband. “Honey, I wish you’d talk to your son about his choice of toys! All that violence isn’t good for him!”
Herbert Horsehide, eyes totally glued to the television set, managed to mutter, “Yes, dear.” Amanda Horsehide stooped over and with her free hand picked up a couple of pairs of stained underwear, yellow in the front and brown in the back, lying on the carpet. One pair was Junior’s. The other pair was men’s size extra- large. They would have to wait until the next load was washed. She walked from the room as the quarterback was tackled viciously for an eight yard loss. “Did you see that hit? He creamed him! He creamed him!” screamed Herbert Horsehide.
Amanda emerged from the back door of her house, holding the heavy clothesbasket in her arms in front of her. Hanging the clothes on the line instead of simply tossing them in the dryer was more work, but the clothes seemed to be fresher after they had dried outside in the sun and Amanda felt that the extra work was worth the effort. As she walked across her back porch she accidentally stepped on a skateboard and with one foot on the skateboard and the other leg flailing in the air, she began to ride it wildly down the back steps of her house. Her robe caught on a lever at the bottom of the steps and pulled it. Water began to spray from the sprinklers, soaking her robe and the damp clothes in the basket she still clutched desperately in her arms. Amanda rode crazily forward through the spraying water, trying her hardest to retain her balance, but ran directly over the prongs of a rake her husband had carelessly forgotten to pick up. The rake flipped up and the handle smashed Amanda in the back of the head. The clothes and the basket scattered across the back lawn. Amanda did several front rolls and came to a stop face down in a muddy flower garden bordering the back fence. Junior, drawn by the noise, opened the back door and quickly assessed the situation. With a look of great concern, he raced out of the back door, down the steps and along the sidewalk, ignoring the spraying sprinklers. He reached down and with great tenderness he gingerly picked up his beloved skateboard. “It better not be broken!” Junior yelled to his mother and then ran back into the house and slammed the back door.
Mrs. Dinkle was emptying the garbage from the kitchen into the trash can by her back porch when she heard a moaning sound coming from the Horsehide backyard. She walked to the back fence that separated her yard from the Horsehide’s and peered over. Amanda Horsehide was struggling to her feet. She was soaked with water and her face was covered with mud.
“Amanda! This is your lucky day! John needs help at the car lot and I told him I would send someone over this morning who was well qualified for the job. I had you in mind all the time.”
For the first time Mrs. Dinkle noticed Amanda’s condition. “Of course, you really ought to get cleaned up a little before you go.”
Amanda turned and without a word staggered up the steps and into her house. As Mrs. Dinkle turned to resume her morning chores she was unaware that she was being watched from over the side fence by Marsha Goodthighs. Marsha had been sunning herself in an itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikini on her back lawn and had overheard the conversation between Mrs. Dinkle and Amanda Horsehide. She picked up her towel and drink from a small table by her lounge chair and walked swivel-hipped into her house.
___
A problem of spectacular proportions had developed at Tootville High School at the end of first period. Two-ton Tilly had eaten too big of a breakfast and had once again become wedged in a second story classroom doorway. She stood helplessly as a group of students heroically pushed at her from behind in a futile effort to dislodge her from the doorframe. Principal Dood stood next to Tommy in the hallway, directing the activities. “Keep pushing!” he shouted to the tired students.
The students were exhausted from their efforts but gave it one last try. A bucktoothed sophomore called out, “All together, on three. One, two, three!” They put their shoulders to Tilly’s backside in a valiant effort but it was to no avail. “It’s no use, Principal Dood,” said the bucktoothed student. “She’s really stuck this time.”
In the hallway, Principal Dood assessed the situation. As the courageous leader of the school it was his responsibility to take command of difficult situations like these.
“What are you going to do?” asked Tommy. “We can’t just leave her there.”
“I’m not going to do anything. Go get Janitor Jim. Let him take care of this.”
Tommy sprinted down the hallway in search of Janitor Jim. Outside of the building, Janitor Jim was in the process of shoveling up the droppings that a pack of generous dogs had deposited at the foot of the statue of Major Toot. Janitor Jim looked up into the Major’s face. “Why do they do it?” he asked in a voice choked with emotion. “Why do dogs come from miles around just to crap at your feet?”
Tommy burst out of the entrance doors and raced down the steps toward the disgusted school custodian. “Janitor Jim! Janitor Jim! Two-ton Tilly’s stuck again.”
Janitor Jim dropped his shovel with a sigh of relief and looked down at the dog mess, grateful for the temporary reprieve. “Don’t go away,” he said to his many little friends. “I’ll be right back.” He turned and walked with Tommy up the steps and into the building.
Principal Dood was still standing with the students in front of the doorway as Tommy and Janitor Jim arrived. Janitor Jim walked up to Tilly’s backside and did some inspecting. “Have you tried pushing her?”
“She won’t budge,” said the bucktoothed student, shaking his head.
“What about a pin in the backside?”
“We’ve tried that, too. She can’t even feel it.”
Janitor Jim turned to Principal Dood. “It looks like we’re going to have to take drastic measures. Fortunately, I am prepared.”
“Stand back, students,” warned Principal Dood. The students in the hallway moved nervously back away from the doorway. Principal Dood moved back and stood behind them, protecting them from possible danger from the rear. Janitor Jim reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a large Three Musketeers candy bar. He ripped off the wrapper and tossed the candy bar so it landed several feet in front of Two-Ton Tilly.
“Candy bar, Tilly. Candy bar,” said Janitor Jim.
“Candy bar,” repeated Tilly. In spite of what must have been a huge breakfast, she began to strain forward in an effort to reach the delectable morsel.
“Push!” yelled Janitor Jim to the students. They once again crowded behind Tilly’s backside and began to shove. Tilly strained and heaved toward the candy bar. The students grunted and groaned as they shoved with everything they had. Suddenly Tilly popped free with a loud noise and fell face-first on the floor. The students fell forward also and dog piled on top of Tilly. Tilly looked up as the tardy bell sounded. The candy bar was stuck to her forehead.
“Nothing to it,” said Janitor Jim matter-of-factly. He stepped forward and pulled the smashed candy bar from Tilly’s forehead, took a big bite and turned to walk back to his waiting friends.
Principal Dood stared down at the mound of students. “Well, don’t just lie there. You’re all late. Get to class.”