“Well, Annie Mae, let’s go to the bank and try to get that loan.”
“With your credit, they wouldn’t give you a bag of croutons.” I always appreciate the support of my collie.
Mr. Skinflint, the bank manager, motioned for me to sit down.
“Now, Mr. Fumigate, what can I do for you?” »
“Ahh, the name is Fugate.”
“I really don’t care. Why are you bothering me? I am a busy man.
“Well, I would like to get a loan.”
“What do you intend to use the money for? A new car, renovating the house, installing a swimming pool?
“Well, no. I would like a loan to buy a tank of gas.”
Mr. Skinflint had heart palpitations. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He first turned blue, then red, and finally ash gray before death. “See here Futguts, we’re a bank, not Fort Knox. Want one house, maybe two houses? Want a different car for each day of the week? That’s fine. We can do that. But a loan for a full tank of You must be crazy Maybe we can lend you some money for a pint of petrol, maybe a litre, but a full tank Get out before I call the police and I’ll throw you out.
“Okay. I’ll go. But I just wanted the loan to take Annie Mae to Campus to hunt squirrels.”
“Can’t your wife hunt squirrels in the garden?”
“Annie Mae is my collie.”
“Well, I’m sorry. But I have other people to see. Good day to you Fuzzguts.”
“It’s Fugate. I’ll break the news to Annie Mae. She was hoping to drive to Campus. Pedaling is hard for her.”
“Well that’s too bad. Have a nice day!”
Suddenly, Mr. Skinflint leapt in front of me. He grabbed my shoulders and put his watermelon-shaped head inches from my banana-shaped head.
“Did you say Annie Mae? Lawyer Annie Mae? The ruling and reigning monarch of the Principality of Dry Creek Annie Mae?”
“Well, she has a column in The Advocate every month,” I stammered.
“Where is Annie Mae. Did you bring her with you? Mr. Skinflint looked under his desk, in the filing cabinet, and under the rug.
“She’s in the car.”
Mr. Skinflint grabbed my throat. “You left the Collie Queen in the car?”
“Well that’s pretty cool, the windows are down and I parked in the shade.”
“Miss Feathers, come out and bring Annie Mae here immediately.”
Miss Feathers began to faint. “Not you Annie Mae? I think I’m going to pass out.
The bank tellers were abuzz with the entrance of Annie Mae.
“Oh that tail. I wish I had a tail like that.”
“Oh that coat. Better than TJ Maxx.”
“Annie Mae, please sit at my desk. What an honor it is for this institution.”
“Well thank you my good man,” cooed Annie Mae. “Has anyone told you that you look strikingly like a young Broderick Crawford?
“Oh how shrewd you are. It’s been mentioned.”
“Miss Feathers, bring Annie Mae a bowl of cold water. Use the crystal bowl, you know the one the county commissioners drink from when they’re here.”
Needless to say we got the loan. And Mr. Skinflint never quite understood my name. Thank goodness The Advocate does.
Larry Futguts is a local freelance writer. His On the Front Porch column appears the first Sunday of the month in The Advocate. He can be contacted at [email protected] if you have nothing better to do.