It always comes in threes.
What does?
Misfortune, bad luck...it always comes in threes. Or at least, that is what Hammerhaid firmly believes.
And he presents a pretty strong case in behalf of his theory.
Perhaps “theory” is too weak of a word. In the H-man’s case, it is more of a prophesy not unlike the “sleeping prophet,” the late Edgar Cayce.
Never heard of Cayce? Well, obviously, you never watch The Learning Channel, Discovery Channel or the Hitler Channel.
Hammerhaid’s latest prophecy came, not while he was sleeping, nor while he was sitting on the “Throne of Power” in his secluded reading room.
It came, not exactly in a blinding vision, while cruising down Memorial on Monday night.
Suddenly, Hammerhaid, right in the middle of the hazardous minivan zone, was lightless.
Oops, “lightless” is somewhat a misnomer.
His interior lights worked just fine. So did his dome lights, his dash lights, his radio, and his taillights, parking lights, turn signals and hazard lights. Even his map light worked.
Everything worked perfectly....
Except the important things....
Headlights, brake lights and the horn.
He might as well have had a “hit me” sign installed on his vehicle.
But that didn’t happen. His headlights, etc., went out right next to where several units of the city’s finest were pulling over and searching the car of a suspect. Speaking of “suspect,” ol’ H-haid looked pretty suspicious when passing a traffic stop and his lights going instantly off. Naturally, one of the backup units was curious and flicked on the blue lights. Fortunately, the true nature of the things brought a grin to the officer, who provided him a safe backup to his nearby home.
The next morning, the answer to this problem was found by Hammerhaid standing on his head and finding a bad fuse under the dash.
With dilemma No. 1 resolved. It was time for No. 2. Say “Number Two” to any kid under 10 and you will be greeted by gales of laughter. This “No. 2” wasn’t so funny to Hammerhaid.
“No. 2” came while H-haid was frying up some chicken. Well actually, he wasn’t frying. He was heating up some fully-cooked frozen chicken strips in the oven, while ‘fixin’’ green beans and corn on the stove top. (I know, it was a mistake for him to try that, but man can’t live by pancakes alone.)
He was managing things like a pro when the #$%^ smoke alarm gave a couple of squeals. Durn it!
Hammerhaid quickly searched for the source of the smoke, but really couldn’t spot anything major. Squawk, squawk ... the detector warned him again. “Durn this *&^% thing,” he said, as he continued to scramble looking for the source of the smoke.
Hammerhaid was beginning to panic, because he knew what would happen if the detector kicked on full blast. Evacuation? Heck no. The darn cat was bound to attack.
Sure enough, the detector began its shrill squeal and the cat suddenly appeared in the kitchen raising all sorts of Cain. It was Betty Lou to the rescue. She grabbed up a pair of shorts and fanned the detector two or three times and the squealing stopped and everything was back to normal.
“That’s all you have to do. Don’t you know anything?” she didn’t have to add that last comment.
That left only “No. 3” and that didn’t take long to hit.
All of H-haid’s favorite cable channels suddenly went off. All you could get was a “subscription option” box. Several phone calls later and a cancelled (by the cable folk) service calls, he found out that it wasn’t exactly a service problem. His “special offer” had ended and it would cost $76 plus tax to continue the service. What was worse was that the SOAP channel and Lifetime Movie Channel were both gone. Betty Lou wasn’t happy.
Dadgummit. Well at least ... oops, better not jinx it.
T-t-t-t-t-t-t-hat’s r-r-r-r-r-r-right. |
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