Our Old Enemy the Weather knows no shame. One moment it's warm and balmy, like Spring, the next? An icy wind cuts across flash frozen Texan tundra, it's like the Day After Tomorrow but this isn't New York, no, it's the Lone Star State.
Regardless, the ferocity of the elements didn't stop me driving out into the windswept steppe to bring the Sacrament to a sick churchman. I rolled up to his ranch and there he was, resting up. "Father," he asked, "can you get the dogs in, please?"
"Sure," I replied, and called them in, bounding joyfully into the house, big sticks in their happy canine mouths. But they weren't sticks, they were deer bones, I should've looked closer before I noticed the smell. "Padre," exclaimed the rodeo star invalid, "Tucker's got a big ass bone in his mouth." So he did, and so did Lucy.
"Get those dam things and throw 'em out back. And wash your hands," which is exactly what I did, before administering Holy Communion. "Get better, man, we need you back at the Altar."
I file this exciting tale under Country Life in Texas and Climate Change.
God Bless,
LSP
