Funny Signs

Here's a link for you to buy burial caskets for your pets.

There's a billboard for these folks on I-24, heading West, in or around Manchester, TN. I've seen it a couple of times, and wondered exactly what percentage of the budget this little venture has was taken up by renting a billboard with excellent sightlines for the interstate.

I mean, you'd think you'd spend your money a little more wisely advertising in pet or home magazines. Or perhaps undertakers' trade publications.

But since the site's up and running, they at least have money still to pay for server space somewhere.

Still, it seems out of place to me. Lots of times, I've been driving down the road and seen signs for a service or good I needed. Hamburger. Motel Room. Gas. And I was entertained by those billboards from God that said stuff like "Don't Make Me Come Down There."

But I've never been driving down the interstate and said, "Eureka! That is What my Life's been missing! A Casket for my pet!"

Of course, I've never said that for a Burger King or a Holiday Inn billboard either. So who am I to judge?

The whole thing just seems counter-productive, to me. I mean, how the hell are you going to get that 24" x 30" cherry box to flush down the toilet?

Just one of those products for people with more money than sense.....personally, I never carry more than 11 dollars.

And then there's the handpainted sign nailed to a tree on the side of a road in my home county advertising mid-wife and childbirthing services, along with a phone number. I'll have to get a picture of this one, because the one person I've told about it didn't believe me.

But it's cheaper than getting an ad in the yellow pages, and sometimes you just have to make do, I guess.

Now, the beginnings of a short story.....

"The Birth of Jimmy Dale McEvertong"

The night is torn asunder with a scream:

"Take me to a doctor," she cries. Her name is Carrie Lynn, she is 18, and she puffs on a Marlboro Light to ease the labor pains.

"No, baby," David McEvertong says, putting his hands on her shoulders. "I can't afford no doctor. Besides, they see these burns from the meth lab fire, they'll take me in...."

"What are we gonna do?" She grabs hold of the faded black t-shirt he wears, his favorite, the one pronouncing the virtues of the Flying Black Eagle Truck Stop and Huddle House in Dothan, Alabama.

Pulling him within inches her face, she says, through clinched teeth: "Damn. It. I'm. About. To have. This baby."

David clutches his head in his hands, kind of praying but not really, just saying "Oh Jesus" over and over again.

And then the lightbulb comes on.

Carrie starts at the light in the eyes of her boyfriend of 11 months.

"Baby! You hold on! I'm going out to get that phone number offa that tree!"

"What?!?!?!?".....