Poetry

Making Allowance

By: Carl “Papa” Palmer

Pleased with my brand new door lock knobs,
chrome, smooth, tapered, anti-theft,
no ridge to grasp with a coat hanger,
I swing shut the door to my truck
with the keys dangling from the ignition.

Knowing the doors are locked,
I check both sides anyway.
Looking through the windows,
I pull both handles once more.

Noticing the driver side window slightly down,
I snake in a straightened coat hanger.
The knob works as advertised.

Tapping the glass with a bumper jack handle,
preparing to break the window
and file an insurance vandalism claim,
my 10 year old daughter steps into the garage.

After sharing with her my dilemma,
I listen as my little girl speaks,
“I have an idea, Dad.”

I watch as she snakes an arm length
of nylon fishing line through the opening
to touch the knob, squeezes super glue
to bubble down the string
and form a glob seal between the two.

We wait the prescribed drying time
of one minute, and one to grow on,
before she slowly pulls the string
to pop the knob
and me right out of my predicament.

“Wow! That was terrific! Thanks, Kathy”
“That’s all right, Dad, could I please
have a dollar advance on my allowance?”

I give her the dollar, and one to grow on.

Categories: Poetry

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