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Wile E. Coyote Talks to the Crows

The crows were pretty much minding their own business, flying upside down (they had seen the Blue Angels earlier in the day and it looked cool), collecting shiny things for their art gallery, snacking on road kill and abandoned french fries, dropping sticks and then swooping down to catch them before they hit the ground, when along comes Wile E. Coyote, complaining about his bad luck.

"What's the matter, Shaggy?" asked a crow, "did the Roadrunner make you blow out the valves of your laugh?"

To the coyote, the question sounded something like, "Nevermore?"

"I would like to think so," replied the coyote, but let me tell you about some of the trouble I've had, especially with the products I've bought from Acme, Inc. I've spent a fortune, maxed out my credit card, and all for nothing."

"So, you burned out your weeper?" asked a crow, but to the coyote it sounded like "Nevermore?"

"As I said before, I'd like to think so. In fact, my attorneys are planning to file suit against Acme, Inc. for the damages I've incurred. Let me tell you. Lord knows how many times the hair on my head, neck and muzzle have been singed. And the explosions! This discoloration of my fur may be permanent. I also broke my left ear at the stem, causing it to dangle with a creaking noise. And I can't tell you the number of times that I've burned my whiskers."

"You've been flash-thumped," said a crow, although to the coyote, it sounded like "nevermore."

"Let me just read you this," said the coyote, "and sure, nevermore, never again am I going to do business with Acme, they've got enough of my money. According to my attorney – and he just writes this stuff, but I've experienced it – I've suffered a flattening of the cranium, sideways displacement of the tongue, and compression of the vertebrae from the base of my tail to my head. And the pounding I've taken has produced a series of regular horizontal folds in my body. It's a rare and painful condition that caused me to expand upward and contract downward alternately as I walk, and emit an off-key accordion-like wheezing with every step. You can imagine what kind of impression I make on the ladies in such a state."

The crows started making a sound, not quite a "nevermore," but something that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

The coyote decided not to waste any more time talking to the crows, whom he suspected of mockery .... well, at least they weren't mockingbirds, repeating ad nauseum, "flattening of the cranium ... flattening of the cranium, compression of the vertebrae, compression of the vertebrae." He couldn't decide what was worse, the roadrunner's smug "beep, beep," or the crows' mocking "nevermore."

Bored with the conversation, the crows flew off to uproot some carrots in somebody's garden, while the coyote's thoughts turned to the new Acme catalogue that had arrived in the morning's mail. The coyote thought to himself, "well, maybe that back-mounted rocket will finally allow me to catch Mr. Big Shot Roadrunner. We'll see who gets the last laugh."



December 2018



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