While traveling the other day I seen a couple houses out in the country. Although they was very different in looks, it didn’t seem too strange ‘til I met the two brothers that lived in ‘em.
On the right side of the road was a two-story yeller and white house with a wraparound porch. It was adorned with colorful flowers and surrounded by fresh cut grass and shady weepin’ willer trees. Behind the house were an abundance of trees. A rainbow arced over the house, from one end of the property to the other.
On the other side of the road, directly across from the yeller house, was an identical two-story house that was not so well kept. This one was gray and decrepit, its paint faded and peeling. Weeds surrounded it, and the trees had no leaves on their branches.
What caused such a contrast? Maybe one brother was rich and the other brother was poor, or maybe one was ambitious and the othern was lazy. Did one brother just have the pride to take care of his place while the othern gave no never mind?
Well, I discovered it was none of them thoughts when I met Vern and Wilbur. Matter of fact it was the durndest thing I ever seen.
“Good afternoon fellers,” I said. “Nice day ain’t it?”
“I thank the good Lord for days like this,” Vern said.
“I don’t know,” Wilbur said. “We never have enough good days like this. Besides sunny days like this make the weeds grow. I’ve got enough weeds.”
Right then I noticed another color stretch across the rainbow over the yeller house. A dark cloud mustered up over the gray one, thundering and raining.
Just then one of the neighbors walked up and gave each of the brothers a huckleberry pie.
“I’m surprised you even brought me one,” Wilbur said. “You always bring Vern twice as much stuff, and he always gets the better ones. But thanks anyway.”
“You can choose which pie you’d like first then, Mr. Hinkle,” she said.
Wilbur reached out and took one of the pies.
Vern took the other pie, and said, “Oh, I love huckleberry pie. Thank you for taking the time to make these. You make the best pies in the world, Mrs. Carter.”
Mrs. Carter’s eyes grew and her smile widened twice’t as wide. “Why, thank you, Vern. If you’d like I’ll bring you some ice cream to go with it.”
“Don’t go out of your way,” Vern said. “But if you happen to come by, I’d love some of your homemade ice cream. I been telling folks it’s the best in the county.”
Mrs. Carter turned around and happily sauntered away.
Wilbur’s pie sunk in a little and turned dark on the edges like it was burnt. Vern’s smelled delicious, a specimen of a perfect pie.
While we was all admiring Vern’s pie the constable drove up.
“Just letting you know that there has been some vandalism in these parts, so be on the lookout,” he said.
It’s about time you looked for the vandals,” Wilbur said. “They smashed my pumpkins on my porch.”
“I’ll give you a few more pumpkins, Wilbur,” Vern said. Then he turned to the constable. “I appreciate you keeping our town safe, Constable. Thank you for the good work.”
“No problem, Vern,” the constable said. “You know, I’ve got some extra fencing material if you’d like it for your garden to keep the rabbits out.”
“That’s quite neighborly of ya, Constable. I’ll gladly accept,” Vern said.
Right then the last pumpkin at the gray house rolled off the porch and exploded as it hit the ground. The pumpkin patch at the yeller house grew double the pumpkins while we was a standing there.
It didn’t take much time fer me to figger out which house Wilbur lived in and which one Vern lived in.
I learnt sumpin’ very innerestin’ about one thing in particular that day. Cain’t recall the actual word in my head but it starts with a “G” and rhymes with attitude. Very innerestin’ indeed how powerful that “G” word is.
