An Easy Touch

My secretary was blushing when she came in and told me that crazy man was on the line again. There’s no telling what he said to her. I picked up the phone fully expecting that the urgency of the call was hunting related.

“Hello,” I sang out.

“Hello yourself,” came his reply, “Don’t you ever let that woman answer the phone again when I call. She wouldn’t know a bobwhite from a bullbat. Now listen to me and don’t interrupt. I went over to Cordele yesterday and took a look at Jake Gordon’s pointer. I ain’t lying when I say this. He’s the best bird dog I’ve seen since Mack got off the plane. I’m gonna take the Preacher’s little pointer over there this weekend and breed her. We ought to get some good puppies. Anyhow, you need a good birddog so you can get rid of that little shaggy bobtail thang you hunt with.”

“But…” I tried to protest.

“Don’t but me. Just listen. Jake wants a hundred dollars so I want you to send me a check since you’re gonna get the pick of the litter. I’ll be looking for it by the end of the week. Bye!” And with that he hung up.

I sat there stupidly looking at the phone and then reached for my checkbook.

“Who is that man?” my secretary wanted to know when I handed her the check with the mailing instructions.

“Aw, he’s just an old fool from South Georgia,” I answered. Then after a long pause I added, “Who’s got an even bigger fool for a nephew in Atlanta."

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