The sleepy little town of her maintains a humble face. The letters on its welcome sign are all in lower case. It’s not that they are ego-less or lacking any worth, it's that they think one day the meek will inherit the Earth. And so with an inheritance based on an “anti-boast,” the town of her became renown as her from coast to coast. Now Lois Avenue was one reporter with a flair. She came to write about her folk to publish in Laid Bare. (Laid Bare was published near Des Moines, a paper with true grit. The publisher thought tales of her would surely be a hit.) So Lois walked the streets of her and talked to young and old. She even knocked on her front doors-- Miss Avenue was bold. As it was nearing four o’clock a handy man came by. He said he was Her Handyman; “O Miss, give me a try!” But Lois, although sure as brass, gave caution to the man. She also noted that his “Her” was raised upon his van. “I am the Handyman for sure,” he cooed as their eyes locked. He carried on in randy tone, but Avenue just walked. Reporter Lois returned home, put out you can be sure. It was the last her saw of her. It was the last he saw of her. 40 Lines Writer’s Cramp January 11, 2014 |