Thack You: Busman’s Holiday

Larry Thack is doing a constant 62 mph and will not budge from the passing lane

I took a trip over the Easter holiday to visit my shockingly still-alive parents. Our plans were simple – eat two very small meals at which mayonnaise was a key ingredient, drink an obscure nectar with a single cube of ice, then attend church.
My train arrived in Bluefield just in time to get a haircut before they picked me up. I always travel in a suit so it doesn’t get wrinkled in my carpetbag. I will rethink this in the future as my barber accused me of being a mortician. I’m not sure how I feel about being mistaken for a mortician – on the one hand they’re a creepy lot and should be ashamed of themselves, however it’s the only business that thrives on its customers’ dying – which is nice. I then ran into my old boss, Mr. Rosemond. He was recruiting ushers for the Easter service and my suit once again attracted flies. He explained that the church was downtown and I would be charged with shooing homeless families away from the doors. This obtained me a prime seat among the crippled widows to whom no collection plate was ever passed. I accepted the job!
Later I attended a museum alone as my parents claimed it was too expensive. It was free. I got in 18 holes of mini-golf with only a pair of unfinished holes. Eventually I ran out of quarters at the arcade and went home.
Church the next day was a treat. Epicopalians are the best – not once did I feel like I was among decent God-fearing, humble folk. I was home.

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