I did something really stupid today. I tried to convince a college friend that COVID and the pandemic are not a hoax. I know, super stupid. So I decided to bring back an oldie but goodie story about my metal rooster named Rusty. This was a post from the summer of 2016. I hope it makes you laugh a little (and, of course, agree with me that I did not steal him!)
—
I follow a quirky writer who posted on her blog about a giant metal chicken she named Beyonce. I love this post so much. I read it from time to time when I am sad or need a good chuckle.
Fast forward to this past week. A new antique store opened up, and when I drove by it on Monday there was a giant rooster out front. I did a U turn to check it out in more detail. But the store was closed. I emailed the contact listed on the door, and he told me the price.
On Wednesday I went back to the store to get him, but they were not set up to take credit cards….ugh! Not to be deterred, later on while taking Samantha’s friend home after a 2 day, only happens in the summer, sleepover, I stopped by again. But guess what? They were open, but there was a note on the door that read “Be back in a second.” Double UGH. I had the cash and wanted my rooster!
I had to do some quick thinking. I grabbed the envelope in my glove compartment from my fishing license application… put in $182 and said it was for the rooster out front, stuffed it in the door frame, and we loaded him into the car.
Samantha and her friend named him Rusty. And we all worried that the Carrboro cops would be following us home.
My family says that I *stole* Rusty because I left $182, and he was actually $185. I had an anxiety dream about this last night where 2 workers from the store ran out as my car passed the store saying I still owed $3. Good God I am clearly not a person who breaks rules.
But Rusty was meant to be in our family. I know it.