My brother sent me a text for Highway 24 west of Wamego, saying he was passed by an ancient Augusta Holiday Rambler with War Damn EAGEL(sic) crudely spray painted on its side and a broken-down 1980s F-150 with one of those oil-burning rolling coal things rednecks use to belch smoke at libruhs, which a couple of toothless hicks in overalls did to him because -- he assumed -- of his Powercat antenna flag.
Anyway, two miles down the road near the Flush turnoff, he sees both vehicles pulled off to the side of the road.
Being a better man than I am, he pulls over to see if they need help.
Not at all, but he was pressed into being a peacemaker when he found them near blows over who was going to get the roadkill possum squished between the Holiday Rambler's rear dualies. He suggested the pickup drivers head back to Wamego and then south on 99, where he had seen a dead deer the day before. That seemed to work, but it only led to another fight when the possum amazingly worked its way out from between the tires and crawled to culvert, which also causes all kinds of lamentations about what to do for supper.
By this time, bro is disappointed at himself for not getting the whole thing on his iPhone VI when he sees that self-same device in the sticky hands of some perplexed looking red-headed bean-pole teen dressed in jorts and a Rainy Day Patriots T-shirt. He managed to get it back, despite the kid shouting "But could use if I had more time," make it to his car and balled the jack to Manhappening texting me.
