Day CCLXXXIX

Oh, Poor Henry

     Henry was quiet for a long time, he sipped his coffee, then said,

    “Man, Ina, Ina, I was intending to get one fada house, but I kept putting it off. Then Sat’dee my wife was frying chicken fo lunch, somehow da grease spilt ina fiah, and she quickly threw water onit. “Oh Lawd!” She screams, and by da time I gots da, it had spread to da flo, then da coitins, an suddenly we hadda run out da. We bahley grabs da kids, called 911, and runs out. But by da time da fiahmen gots da, it was too late to save my house, man. I’m homeless na Sid, and dat shit ain’t funny, man.” He cried, as gravity finally succeeded in pulling his tears down, and made them flow.       

     “I’m really sorry man, my heart goes out ta ya. Go home, take care of ya business, come back when ya got it under control, man. Take as much time as ya want. We’ll still be hea!”

      Twenty minutes later, when all of us were sitting around the conference room, enjoying his spread, Sid entered the room trying to stifle his chuckles.

     “He hee heee…I really shouldn’t laugh at diz guys, I’m really, really sorry, but dammit, it’s funny. Youses is selling fire extinguishers. I poisoanlly don’t sell anything I don’t use. Youses need to know foist hand da product you…

     “He hee hee…haw haw haw,” He lost control, and there were a few stifled chuckles here, and there, but no real major guffaws, as we were still in the dark. Then he continued:

     “Henry kept putting off having an extinguisher in his own home, and when he needed one, he didn’t have it. Dat po soul is now homeless. Let dat be a lesson ta youse. I don’t have anything else ta tells ya…cept ya kin sez a prayer fo him and fambly. Go on out da, stay positive, an good luck ta alla youse.”

     That’s how Hank started smoking again, and who can blame him?