AH, WILMA, HOW YOU’VE CHANGED

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       By Leon Berger

      I was physically attracted to Wilma when she wore knee high boots and a

quasi-military uniform complete with stun gun hanging low on her waist as

 she coursed through the galaxy, accompanied by her stalwart companion Buck.

  Suddenly, a scant 60 odd years later, Wilma is a bundle of energy, zigzagging

 out of

Africa destined for the southern tip of

Florida where she  satisfied  her

 insatiable appetite for phone and electric  grids, pool enclosures, beautiful but

 shallow ficus trees  and of course,  ceramic tiles.  I won’t mention trailer parks;

that’s a given.  Then she was gone, leaving to the hapless burghers the arduous

task of healing the wounds inflicted by this tempestuous vixen. 

     “Harry, what are you doing about having the pool enclosure rescreened.?”

     “We’re on the list.  I figure they will get around to us sometime in January.”

     “What about the roof tile?”

     “You must be kidding?”

     Phone rings.  Lois picks up the phone on the second ring.  “Hello. Hold on,

I’ll get him.”

     “Harry, it’s for you.”

     “Who is it?”

     “He didn’t say, but apparently he knows you.  He asked for ‘Harry.’ “

     “Hello.”

     “Harry, we would like to send a crew over to rescreen your patio. There will  

be no charge for this service.”

     “You’ve  got the wrong guy, buster.  I don’t know who you are but I can

recognize a scam a mile off.  Why don’t you hang up and get an honest job.”

      “Harry, I represent’Physio’.  We have done business before.” 

     “I don’t think so.  I never heard of you.”

     ‘Harry, check page 25 of your journal*”

  

     “My journal?    Are you sure you have the right party?”

     “Quite sure.”

     “Okay.  Tell me, why am I the lucky recipient of such benefaction?  You did

 say it would be free.”

     “This is going to be difficult, but I’ll try.  Your property came with a  variance that created a geometric anomaly so that the vertices of the polygon…. ..no, this isn’t going to work out.  Think back, Harry. .  You answered our ad at  the turn of the century and constructed a ‘thinking area’ that changed your life .” 

      Harry  struggles to remember. . “Look, give me a minute. I just want to

check this out.”       “Don’t take too long. You have been allotted 30 seconds to make a decision.   30 seconds, no more, no less.” 

     “Lois, quick, get my journal.  You look in the den; I’ll check the playroom.

  There’s something familiar about what this guy is saying.”

        Lois scampers off, but returns obviously flustered.  “What journal, Harry?”

     “My book.  My book.  There’s a story on page 25.  I want to refresh my

memory”

       Lois returns.  “Harry, I can’t find your book.  Where do you keep it?”

     “That’s alright; I found my copy.”  Checks page 25 and reads the title out  loud: ‘The Message’.    Scans the story, a confused expression on his face. 

     “ Damn, he’s right.  ‘Physio’ was the name of the company that placed that

 weird ad in Fortune magazine.  Their company provided information on how to

convert the shower into a ‘thinking area’ and it really worked.” Picks up the  

phone.  “Hello,  hello”.  The line is dead. “ I guess when he said ‘30seconds’ he

meant it.” 

       “I’m surprised you didn’t hang up on him.  You’re the one who always tells

me that ‘there is no such thing as a free lunch’ and that ‘you always get what you

 pay for.’ “

     “Yeah, it slipped my mind.  Lois, I’m going to take a shower.”

      “Harry, it’s 4:30 in the afternoon.  You took a shower this morning.”

      “I know, but this time I’ve got some thinking to do.”

      One-half hour later, Harry, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair moist, 

and hanging over his forehead, confronts Lois.  “I think we can be proud of the

 way we handled Wilma.  We were resolute and mature in the way we faced the

problems she caused.  We did what had to be done and we are going to resolve the

 problems of the aftermath in the same fashion.  How does that sound?”

     “It sounds good to me, Harry, but tell me did you really require one-half-hour

 in the shower to come up with that strategy?”

______________*SURVIVAL IN BOCA RATON published by Trafford  Publishing 

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