The Great Storm of '99. by Jarod Kintz
All the townsfolk remember the rainstorm of '99. How could they not? It rained for weeks, and the rain drops seemed to be the size of buckets. I know, because each drop would fill up an entire bucket.
Every house in the town had at least two holes in their roof, and most of the households only had two buckets to catch the water drops that leaked down during storms. Two buckets was all anybody ever needed, or so they thought. But nobody had seen a storm like the storm of '99 before.
And the townsfolk all laughed at me when, in the spring of '98, I opened up a shop selling a wide variety of buckets. Buckets, buckets, I sold nothing but buckets. Actually, I sold nothing. At least not until the almost Biblical storm of '99 came along.
Oh, how I smile when I remember how they all huddled in my store, just begging to buy my buckets. Why, after that storm, not only was I the wealthiest man in town, but I was also the most popular.
Shortly after the storm, I ran for office. I would say I won by a landslide, but that became a sensitive word after the storm. As the new mayor, I decreed that the town's name be changed to Bucketville. Nobody objected.
But that was years ago, and I've since moved on to a new town. A town so poor that nobody even has a pot to piss in. Well, at least not until Tuesday, when my new store opens up. What am I going to sell? Why, pots, of course.
Pots, pots, all I'll sell is pots. Yes, the townsfolk will probably laugh. They always do. But in a few years, I'll be the one who's laughing, especially when I pack up and move away from the newly named town of Potsville.
Every house in the town had at least two holes in their roof, and most of the households only had two buckets to catch the water drops that leaked down during storms. Two buckets was all anybody ever needed, or so they thought. But nobody had seen a storm like the storm of '99 before.
And the townsfolk all laughed at me when, in the spring of '98, I opened up a shop selling a wide variety of buckets. Buckets, buckets, I sold nothing but buckets. Actually, I sold nothing. At least not until the almost Biblical storm of '99 came along.
Oh, how I smile when I remember how they all huddled in my store, just begging to buy my buckets. Why, after that storm, not only was I the wealthiest man in town, but I was also the most popular.
Shortly after the storm, I ran for office. I would say I won by a landslide, but that became a sensitive word after the storm. As the new mayor, I decreed that the town's name be changed to Bucketville. Nobody objected.
But that was years ago, and I've since moved on to a new town. A town so poor that nobody even has a pot to piss in. Well, at least not until Tuesday, when my new store opens up. What am I going to sell? Why, pots, of course.
Pots, pots, all I'll sell is pots. Yes, the townsfolk will probably laugh. They always do. But in a few years, I'll be the one who's laughing, especially when I pack up and move away from the newly named town of Potsville.