Mister Posted and the Brain Freeze Goddess (Parabeing, #1) by Carl R. Jennings

Author:Carl R. Jennings
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: deities, god, pantheon, humor
Publisher: Carl R. Jennings
Published: 2019-08-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Mister Posted and Sharon emerged from the corn. Able to survey the entire crop now, Sharon sighed: it looked like there was going to be a fantastic harvest this year. She turned away in disgust.

The two crystal drinking glasses were still sitting on the ground where she had left them the night before, misty with morning dew. Quickly, she snatched them up, holding them against her stomach possessively. Mister Posted strode to the mobile home and, propping the creaking screen door open with a foot, he rapt sharply several times on the front door.

“How much are you going to ask from farmer Cecil for his miracle corn?” Sharon asked, joining him.

“Craig,” Mister Posted corrected.

“What?” Sharon asked.

“His name is Craig,” Mister Posted said. Sharon shook her head dismissively.

“Whatever his name is,” she said, dismissively. “He’s boring. So how much are you going to ask for?”

“I’m not,” Mister Posted said.

“Not what?”

“Going to ask for payment.”

“What?” Sharon asked, outraged. “You debase yourself by fixing his corn through an entire night’s tedious work and you’re not going to ask for anything in return?”

“No,” Mister Posted said, simply.

“Why the hell would you do that?” Sharon said. She nearly yelled it. Mister Posted didn’t give her an answer, not as though she was expecting one. She held the glasses closer to her. “Well I’m keeping these. We should get something out of this rigmarole.”

Both waited. The door remained shut. Mister Posted knocked again. In the quiet of the morning, with nothing but the chirps of birds to fill the silence, Sharon pressed on with her questioning.

“Do you enjoy people taking advantage of you?” she said. “It’s okay if you do, I’m just wondering. Some people do. I don’t understand it, but there you are.”

Mister Posted only stared ahead of him, as though closely examining the pressed wood the flimsy looking front door.

“I was involved this time. I think I deserve an explanation,” Sharon said, primly, carefully omitting the fact that she had been the one who decided to follow Mister Posted in the first place. As her second surprise, Mister Posted gave another explanation, although it was his typical brevity.

“I never ask for anything,” he said.

“Well your time might be useless to you,” she said, “but mine isn’t.” She banged hard on the front door with the flat of her hand. It rattled in the frame as if just another good hit would cause it to fall inward. Mister Posted’s mouth thinned and the muscles in his jaw tightened, but only for a moment.

It still took a minute after Sharon’s battering, but farmer Craig finally opened the door. He was still wearing the overalls from the night before, only now they were unbuttoned, with the front flapping loosely against his front and exposing his stained white t-shirt. Against all expectations his overalls had attained an even greater state of wrinkle than the previous day, pushing the boundary of how crinkled denim could become. Craig’s face was wrinkled as well, especially around his eyes.

“Oh hello,” he said.

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