“Well,” shouted the Curmudgeon as he strutted like a peacock through the open door of the General Store…
(Mrs. Storekeep believed that every day a bit of new air should replace that air that might have been used up by the shoppers of the day before), “did you all go out and shop last Monday in an attempt to bring back the lost tourist dollars to the state tax coffers on that great and patriotic holiday we now call President’s Day?
“And under the threat of the continuing bad weather that only promises to get worse, year by year as we march down the path of Global Warming, while buying quarts of milk and rolls of toilet paper, which president did you mentally assign your purchases to, Lincoln or Washington?”
“Boy, talk about loaded statements,” said Cityfella in a low tone, “Curmudge certainly knows how to pack his explanations with just a bit of bombastic ammunition,” then in a louder tone added: “When it comes to shopping for necessities, I pick no favorites. I was just delighted to have been able to drive on local roads and come down here to get some needed coffee and a copy of the New York Times.”
“How did you make out during the storm?” asked Storekeep who was busy sweeping up ashes that had collected in front of the old pot-bellied stove.
“Could have been worse,” answered the Curmudgeon. “I took advantage of the lull in traffic to make some notes about our coming march to Oz, I mean Raleigh. Our march to shake up the apathy of the public here in our rural counties as day follows day in the idiotic proclamations of our public officials who claim that education is improving along with the economy—”
He paused in midstride to step over the growing pile of dust-bunnies, bits of wood ash, cookie crumbs, and a lone gum wrapper that had been collected by Storekeep as he continued to sweep up.
“—and I’ve got our route pretty well mapped out, beginning here at the store, walking along the new-old-waiting to be finished Interstate, until we reach the bypass to the UNC-A grounds, where I hope we’ll have a pep-rally with as many adults as we can muster, along with a good collection of students. Then we’ll continue to the parking lots where we’ll pick up the busses that will carry us to Oz, I mean Raleigh, for our attempt to bring national attention to the precipitous decline of our state among the other states of the union.”
“Generally, I don’t always cotton to your ideas about government and rural life,” said Mrs. Storekeep, “but after watching our political and social demise I’m with you one hundred percent in your continuing battle against the one-percent.
“I’ve kept quiet in the past because our livelihood depends on the store, but with the latest tirade from the wealthy, that the attacks against their wealth are worse than what some folks suffered from the insanities of the Second World War, makes me cringe. And, I suspect, the more I vocalize, the more support I’ll find because people who think this way probably number less than twenty percent of the total population.”
“Do you know,” said Cityfella, “these selfish folk are truly in the minority but regardless of their claims they control much of the media?”
“Here! Here!” said Curmudgeon. “That’s precisely why we are planning our march on Oz, I mean Raleigh, and I suspect we will be legion in our ranks.”
As he spoke there was a clash of winter thunder that accompanied a bolt of lightning that hit the big oak to the side of the store and everyone jumped, a bit unsure of what the changing weather would be bringing.
In her heart, Mrs. Storekeep knew the future was not going to be easy but she kept those thoughts to herself.
Peter Loewer has written and illustrated more than twenty-five books on natural history over the past thirty years.
