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Blue Earth: April 12, 1984
Jun. 16th, 2012 06:47 pmIt figured.
John Winchester had been hitting the books all morning, going cross-eyed over an old tome about, of all things, werewolves. The print was small, the text was dense, and John wasn’t entirely sure it was in English. After three straight hours he needed a break.
He had to go down to the bank anyway. The boys were under the watchful eye of Mrs. Gustavson. (Sandra Gustavson, John had learned almost right away, was the mother of three teenagers and didn’t miss a trick where kids were concerned.) The bank was only a mile or so away and it was a beautiful spring day. So, seized by what he could only call the reckless hand of spring fever, John decided to walk.
He’d forgotten that old rhyme about April showers and May flowers until he was on the sidewalk along Main Street and the deluge started.
Someone, somewhere, apparently wanted to be sure that Blue Earth had a bumper crop of May flowers this year. In seconds, he was soaked.
John jogged a little ways up the block to a bar whose neon sign proclaimed that it was open for lunch. That would be as good a place as any to wait out the rain.
John Winchester had been hitting the books all morning, going cross-eyed over an old tome about, of all things, werewolves. The print was small, the text was dense, and John wasn’t entirely sure it was in English. After three straight hours he needed a break.
He had to go down to the bank anyway. The boys were under the watchful eye of Mrs. Gustavson. (Sandra Gustavson, John had learned almost right away, was the mother of three teenagers and didn’t miss a trick where kids were concerned.) The bank was only a mile or so away and it was a beautiful spring day. So, seized by what he could only call the reckless hand of spring fever, John decided to walk.
He’d forgotten that old rhyme about April showers and May flowers until he was on the sidewalk along Main Street and the deluge started.
Someone, somewhere, apparently wanted to be sure that Blue Earth had a bumper crop of May flowers this year. In seconds, he was soaked.
John jogged a little ways up the block to a bar whose neon sign proclaimed that it was open for lunch. That would be as good a place as any to wait out the rain.
