My friend Alden Farrar tells this cautionary tale.
A fellow’s due at work at 8:30 in the morning, but rolls in after nine. His supervisor says:
“You should have been here at 8:30.” The fellow says: “Why? What happened at 8:30?”
Years ago Alden told me this story. Never forgot it.
“My ancestor that I was named for went out hunting and there on a high branch was a squirrel, just chittering away. So old Alden loaded up his muzzle loader and I guess he overloaded it because when he went to shoot at the squirrel, which was still up there chittering, the muzzleloader bucked and knocked him ass over teakettle. When Alden come to his senses, stretched out on the ground, muzzle loader still in hand, the squirrel continued to chitter on that high branch. Old Alden said: ‘Chitter, damn you, chitter. You wouldn’t be chittering if you were on the other end of this thing.’ ”
The first time I met Alden and his Olive was over in New Boston, I believe. They told some excellent stories and made a big impression on me. Not more than a couple weeks later, they turned up at an event in Epsom. I said, “Olive, Alden, you came to Epsom all the way from New Boston. Wow!”
Alden said dryly: “We stopped on the way.”
Turns out they lived in Warner.
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