A Fact Finding Mission
This morning as I was sitting on the edge of the bed, barely awake, and still trying to figure out how socks work, I thought I heard something.
I had the TV on and there was an ad running for a local Terre Haute (That’s French for, “We need more wrapping paper.”) store – a place called Boot City. They sell boots and then some.
Doing the commercial was a young lady (obviously a relative of somebody from the store) and she was doing her best “I’m just a little ol’ country girl” accent. In her best Daisy Duke impression she rattled off a list of what they sold at the store.
And that was where either my brain shorted out or Boot City was branching out.
“We have over six million pairs of boots, and thirteen million pairs of denim jeans. We also have tons of Cowboy Jewelry.” (That alone should have gotten my attention.) Then she added something to the inventory that had me dropping my socks.
“We sell Cowboy hats, Boxing gloves for chickens, Ladies long dresses…”
Whoa! Back up! What did you say there, Girl?
“Boxing Gloves for Chickens?”
Did I hear that right or do I need to call my Doctor?
“Boxing Gloves for Chickens?”
After splashing some water on my face, Q-Tipping my ears, and picking up my socks, I decided that this needed further investigation.
Did it ever.
I believed that a Fact Finding Mission was called for.
The hard part of this was convincing my wife, the lovely and concerned for my sanity, Dawn, to go with me to Boot City and act as a witness. After an impassioned plea or two, and a promise to stop at the Dollar Store on the way home, she agreed to ride shotgun.
An acquaintance of Dawn advised her to go along for the experience. He told her, “It’s a once in a lifetime experience. Kinda like Mt. Rushmore. You’ll question why you made the trek. You’ll be awed and then ponder if it was worth it but ultimately be glad you did.”
He’s obviously been there .
When we got to Boot City Dawn wandered off to take it all in. I went over to the Customer Service counter. I told the lady there about what I thought I had heard. Halfway through she began to smile.
“I think I know where you’re heading with this, Sir.”
When I got to the words “Boxing Gloves for Chickens” she nodded and said, “Here let me show them to you. They’re over here in the display case next to the Bull Putters.”
I thanked her and said, “I guess now my wife can cancel that Doctor’s appointment she made for me.”
Boot City does sell boots and enough clothing to outfit 50 years worth of every Country/Western act in existence – and their chickens.
I showed the Boxing Gloves to Dawn and she suddenly wanted to leave.
When I asked her which Dollar Store she wanted to visit she said, “No.” Instead of going to the Dollar Store – well, in retribution for making her go to Boot City she had me push the shopping cart as we ambled our way through Jo-ann Fabrics.
Fair is fair.
Now I know that my hearing this morning was sharp. I did hear the girl say “Boxing Gloves for Chickens.” Now I just have to figure out the “Why.”