Lightning Calls

I dialed the number with heavy, sticky arms, and a brain clouded with rage.

“Hello?”

“Where are you? I need you to lift stuff!”

“I’m waiting….” Static.

“I can’t hear you. There’s a huge storm cloud over the tent, must be causing interference. Four hours, Kevin!”

“Blue skies here. I have to stay until...comes…branch…pissed too!”

“You’re breaking up. I’ll call you from inside, it’s starting to sprinkle and it looks like a gusher. Can you hear me?” I yelled, “I’ll call you back!”

Ten seconds later the cloud had disappeared, so I re-dialed. No answer. Screw him. Next time he needs help, see how I bail on him.

The "long-hair" appeared in his battered pickup bright and early the day after the yard sale.

“Thanks for nothing. You didn’t even call me back? As soon as I hung up it stopped raining. We’re all an inch from heatstroke!”

My brother held up his calloused hand for silence. This outta be good.

“I told you--I’d waited days for the electric company to restore power. You had me in the field dodging cow pies to get reception. Meanwhile, the phone inside's ringing, and I missed the call.

Right then the bucket truck come up the drive; but turns out they didn't need it. This massive flash of lightning split the maple clean in two. The limb what was leaning on the line fell to the ground--took ‘em all of ten minutes to fix it. The rest of the tree sliced through my roof, landing smack dab between the TV and... telephone stand." He paused to let the implication sink in. “I got electricity now, but no house.”

I blushed with remorse. “I’m really sorry!”

He shrugged. “All told, I’m happier than a pig in slop.”

I grinned. ”Well, then…you’re welcome?”


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