Let me tell you about a little scare I had yesterday! It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and my brother asked me if I’d like to go for a drive. Of course! So, everything started out great:
We got to the Fairgrounds and there were a lot of cars. My brother kept driving around to the different buildings. I asked him if we were going to the Gun Show and he said no. I then asked him if he was trying to find where to get his second distemper shot, but he said that was next Tuesday.
He was getting ready to ask a man who was carrying a five-gallon can but the man asked him first if we knew where they were giving out the portable water … I guess to put in his five-gallon can. He must have had a thick accent because it sure sounded like he was saying “potable”. Ha ha, that’s a funny sounding word! Kind of like that time when some fellow told us he was “very impotent”. I guess he meant he was “very important” but, either way, it didn’t seem like a proper topic for discussion.
Anyway, my brother then asked the portable water man something that really surprised me:
“Do you know where the Flea Market is?”
Flea Market! Why on earth would we want to go there? Just the thought of it made my skin start itching, even though I get to eat those Bravecto candies every few weeks. I sure don’t have any fleas to sell – and I’d like to keep it that way. I certainly didn’t want to buy any!
Well, my brother saw my concern, so he explained that a Flea Market is another term for an indoor garage sale. I think “portable water” makes a lot more sense!
When we got back home, I did a little celebration dance.
It was partly because I was happy that we didn’t go long in the flea market, and partly to scratch those imaginary fleas on my back! Does that ever happen to you? I know that every time my brother sees a snake on television, he makes sure to lift his feet up onto the Auto-Man.
Well, I hope you have a flea-free weekend!
