Boxes in the Barn - 06/10/20
Boxes in the Barn
Copyright 2018 - Stephen Redgwell
![[Linked Image from i.imgur.com]](https://i.imgur.com/oRQvtHB.jpg)
Old Arnold died last week at the age of 69. He was a dairy farmer who kept his barn spotless, or at least as spotless as a man could, considerin' he owned almost 100 dairy cows.
Naturally, Arnold's life consisted of a lot of cleanin' and a lot of killin'...flies that is. From the time he learned to walk, until the day he died, you would never see Arnold without a fly swatter hangin' from his belt. His dad got him to do that. Should a fly appear, Arnold would kill it, his hands as fast as greased lightnin'. (Let's hear it for idiomatic expressions!)
What people didn't know was that cleanliness consumed him. After a fly plummeted lifeless to the ground, Arnold would slip on his rubber, fly pickin' gloves and snatch the carcass off the floor. What was left would go into a plastic bag he kept in his back pocket.
Anyone who knew Old Arnold was used to his strange, fly pickin' ways. Heck, it got so no one ever noticed this odd habit. I suppose that some shrinks might call him obsessive compulsive, but he was harmless enough...and very clean.
I don't know of anyone who ever asked what he did with his bags of flies. I guess we figured he threw them in the garbage, but thinkin' back, I don't ever remember watchin' him do that. It wasn't until three days after Arnold's funeral that we found out.
Reverend Stillman went to Arnold's place to help with collectin' and dispersin' his stuff. Arnold never married, but he was one of six kids, and some of his siblings was still alive. The reverend figured to collect his personal effects and take them to his survivin' relatives.
When Reverend Stillman got to the farm, there was about ten people there to help. Old Arnold was well liked by the community and lots of folks wanted to pitch in. They had looked after his cows, makin' sure they was fed and milked. A few was there to transport the herd to his brother's farm, a few miles away. Some others worked outside, gatherin' his equipment, tools, and other stuff.
Ben Grissom and his sons went over to an old drivin' shed to clean it out. It was about 30 by 40, with a set of double doors, held shut by an iron bar. Ben opened it and was surprised to see that the entire back wall was stacked with old, wooden Kraft American Cheese boxes. Ben figured they contained tractor parts and other stuff. He called one of his boys over and they started movin' them into the yard.
"These boxes are awful light, dad. They must be empty." Ben's son opened the top for a look, and started laughin'.
"What's so funny?" his dad asked.
"Open your box." his son replied.
Then they both started laughin'. The chucklin' attracted a crowd, and Ben told everyone to grab a box, but to be real gentle with them.
Bring 'em into the yard." he told the group.
About half the boxes was outside when Jimmy, one of the neighbours, asked what was so funny.
"Oh, I suppose you should open the box you're holdin' and have a look." And the man peeked inside. He started laughin' too.
"Well I'll be damned!" Jimmy said, "Now I know what Arnold did with all them flies he collected! And look, my box has a number written on it."
Ben looked at his son and said, "You don't think..."
"Think what, dad?"
"I just had a silly thought. What if the number written on Jimmy's box is actually the number of dead flies IN the box?"
I won't bother tellin' you the rest of what happened. But you gotta know that the neighbours sat in a circle with one of the boxes in the middle, countin' dead flies. And Ben was right. The number of flies they counted matched the number written on the box.
So they counted the number of wooden boxes - 36. They only counted the contents of one box, but there were 16,790 flies in it. They multiplied that times the number of boxes - 16,790 x 36 - and declared that, in his lifetime, Arnold killed 604,440 flies. Mind you, it was just a guesstimate.
Anyhow, Arnold lived for 25,300 days. That meant he killed about 24 flies a day, every day, for his entire life.
Old Arnold will be missed...but not by any flies.
Copyright 2018 - Stephen Redgwell
Old Arnold died last week at the age of 69. He was a dairy farmer who kept his barn spotless, or at least as spotless as a man could, considerin' he owned almost 100 dairy cows.
Naturally, Arnold's life consisted of a lot of cleanin' and a lot of killin'...flies that is. From the time he learned to walk, until the day he died, you would never see Arnold without a fly swatter hangin' from his belt. His dad got him to do that. Should a fly appear, Arnold would kill it, his hands as fast as greased lightnin'. (Let's hear it for idiomatic expressions!)
What people didn't know was that cleanliness consumed him. After a fly plummeted lifeless to the ground, Arnold would slip on his rubber, fly pickin' gloves and snatch the carcass off the floor. What was left would go into a plastic bag he kept in his back pocket.
Anyone who knew Old Arnold was used to his strange, fly pickin' ways. Heck, it got so no one ever noticed this odd habit. I suppose that some shrinks might call him obsessive compulsive, but he was harmless enough...and very clean.
I don't know of anyone who ever asked what he did with his bags of flies. I guess we figured he threw them in the garbage, but thinkin' back, I don't ever remember watchin' him do that. It wasn't until three days after Arnold's funeral that we found out.
Reverend Stillman went to Arnold's place to help with collectin' and dispersin' his stuff. Arnold never married, but he was one of six kids, and some of his siblings was still alive. The reverend figured to collect his personal effects and take them to his survivin' relatives.
When Reverend Stillman got to the farm, there was about ten people there to help. Old Arnold was well liked by the community and lots of folks wanted to pitch in. They had looked after his cows, makin' sure they was fed and milked. A few was there to transport the herd to his brother's farm, a few miles away. Some others worked outside, gatherin' his equipment, tools, and other stuff.
Ben Grissom and his sons went over to an old drivin' shed to clean it out. It was about 30 by 40, with a set of double doors, held shut by an iron bar. Ben opened it and was surprised to see that the entire back wall was stacked with old, wooden Kraft American Cheese boxes. Ben figured they contained tractor parts and other stuff. He called one of his boys over and they started movin' them into the yard.
"These boxes are awful light, dad. They must be empty." Ben's son opened the top for a look, and started laughin'.
"What's so funny?" his dad asked.
"Open your box." his son replied.
Then they both started laughin'. The chucklin' attracted a crowd, and Ben told everyone to grab a box, but to be real gentle with them.
Bring 'em into the yard." he told the group.
About half the boxes was outside when Jimmy, one of the neighbours, asked what was so funny.
"Oh, I suppose you should open the box you're holdin' and have a look." And the man peeked inside. He started laughin' too.
"Well I'll be damned!" Jimmy said, "Now I know what Arnold did with all them flies he collected! And look, my box has a number written on it."
Ben looked at his son and said, "You don't think..."
"Think what, dad?"
"I just had a silly thought. What if the number written on Jimmy's box is actually the number of dead flies IN the box?"
I won't bother tellin' you the rest of what happened. But you gotta know that the neighbours sat in a circle with one of the boxes in the middle, countin' dead flies. And Ben was right. The number of flies they counted matched the number written on the box.
So they counted the number of wooden boxes - 36. They only counted the contents of one box, but there were 16,790 flies in it. They multiplied that times the number of boxes - 16,790 x 36 - and declared that, in his lifetime, Arnold killed 604,440 flies. Mind you, it was just a guesstimate.
Anyhow, Arnold lived for 25,300 days. That meant he killed about 24 flies a day, every day, for his entire life.
Old Arnold will be missed...but not by any flies.