Did You Hear the One About the Travelling Salesman..?

As most burly jokes start:

There was once a travelling salesman who drove the 'undriven' lanes and highways of America looking for opportunities to sell his wares outside the mainstream.Running low on fuel, the salesman stops at what one could only term the quinisential 'ramshackle' gas station with the tatty roof, off-set screen door and old cylinder style gas pumps with "regular" and "ethyl" in stark, faded print on their faces.

As our protagonist steps from his vehicle and waves to the old codger on the front porch of the ancient petrol oasis, he waves and imparts a congenial 'hello'...

"Howdy, old timer!" exclaims our hero,"I'll pump if you'll be kind enough to grab me a Coke?"

The old man waves back and knods, slowly lifting himself to saunter into his ramshackle store and produce a frosty bottle [!?] of Cocoa-Cola...

Once the salesman has finished fueling his car and popping the pop-top off his drink, he takes a moment to make small talk and pleasantries with the native he's newly met. During the course of his chit-chat with his new-found elderly friend, he notices an old hound-dog laying next to his ancient master.

What makes the dog even more noticable is suddenly, the canine belts out a blood curdling scream that truly only those falling to hell could possibly summon.

The old codger no more than taps on his pipe and continues his story, completely noplumed concerning his seemingly haunted pet. The dog then licks its chops and places its head back to the rickety floor and lays still, blinking placatively.

A pregnant pause later and the conversation picks back up, the salesman looking to gleen a possible lead to his next sale- the least of which might be his conversational partner.

About 10 minutes into a heated conversation, the crecendo of which sounds like a dubious sale- the hound SCREAMS as if it's had every pound of meat stripped from its bones.

The salesman looks dumbfounded to the dog as it yet again licks its chops and settles back to its undisturbed original rest.

"Um... Old man?" stammers the salesman.

"Yes?"

"Just what in the hell is wrong with that dog of yours?!" he exclaims. "I've never heard a dog scream: Bray, moan, grunt, bark, howl and even yodel- but never scream!"

The old man looks down near his feet where the dog lies- never having moved. "You mean Boe there?" asking as if he'd just noticed the canine.

"Boe? Yes I mean BOE! He's the only dog within miles of here!"

"Screaming?" quizzicly the old man knods.

The dog belts out another ice inducing, vein shrinking screech.

"YES! That! That, right there!" exclaims the salesman.

"Oh! That! Yeah, ole Boe's sittin' on a nail." states the old codger.

Every bit of color falls out of the salesman's face. How could it be such a damned simple thing?

"A nail?"

"Yup"

The salesman points at Boe, who simply lays where he's been since...

"Nail..?"

"Yep."

"Great googly Moogly, old man- is that dog so shit fired stupid he doesn't know he's laying on a nail?!"

"Nope. Quite intelligent that one..."

"Then how do you explain all the screaming?"

"You see son- there's two sets of mind in this world..." starts the old fellow. "Boe here is a perfect example of those two minds."

"Okaaaaay..." waits the salesman.

"You see... Ole Boe here knows the nail hurts- but it don't hurt 'enough'..."

"It doesn't hurt enough?"

"Nope- doesn't hurt enough to move." tisks the aged store owner. "That's the 'two minds' in this world. Lotsa people come past me buyin' gas, drinkin' a Coke and they tell me their stories of their travels and then grouse about having to go back to sittin' on that nail in their lives."

The light goes on in our salesman's brain...

"How many lives gone by; how many people have come by here that even though they have the freedom to get up and walk away from the one thing that pokes them into misery... How many of them realize how much their nails hurt before they're uncomfortable enough to get up and move?"

So...

Granted it's a long way to go to make such a simple point, but much like our older gentleman in our story, sometimes it's the pause in the music that is part of the music itself...

What kind of nails have we been guilty of sitting on and just how uncomfortable do they have to be before we're willing to get up and do something about them..?

I continue to be...

Russ