Wednesday

19 April 2017

— silvery frost on the windshield again today

Good Morning All,

It is with a ridiculous amount of sadness I have to inform you that Professor Bentham, a.k.a. the defunct house fly clinging to my car’s sun visor, is no longer present and accounted for.

Yesterday morning, Esther and I decided we’d better go over to the town offices as soon as they opened at 10:00, the better for her to explain why her slow-witted American brother-in-law had not paid his 2 February tax bill of 5,570 Danish crowns. That’s roughly $800.00 American and is for half a year.

When I went out to my car to go to Esther's, the windshield was frosted over. I scraped it, got into the car, put the key in the ignition, and then—before turning the car on—noticed the little fella was no longer at his post above me. 

Maybe the frost finally got to him. I did have a brief false hope he might have packed a bag and headed for Majorca, but that—on second thought—seemed unlikely. 

I got out of the car to see if I could locate him down on the carpet by the pedals, figuring the least I could do would be to give him a decent Christian burial, for he was—all things considered—a likeable sort, reliable and steady, if not all that talkative, and was a good listener when I complained to him about the rude insensitivity of my fellow motorists. 

I found sixteen crowns in change, one of the hairpins I use to clean my ears, and a cherry Life Saver that had picked up a fair amount of lint, but there was nary a sign of Professor Bentham.

In place of flowers, please feel free to send me a check in his name for the Bheka Magwaza Wine and Cheese Foundation.

The unpaid taxes? Esther was her usual brilliant self, causing the lady behind the counter to extend to her sympathetic pitying glances, while I kept my own eyes on my shoes. I did have to pay an extra 300 crowns in accrued interest, but Esther arranged for future taxes to be paid automatically through my bill-paying service, and once again we avoided my being put into handcuffs and led from the building with my jacket over my head.

Go Well and Stay Well,

Bhekaron