Tone deaf and dumb

I saw Ike sitting on his porch as I rounded the corner to the mail boxes. There was twenty foot line of boxes stacked in threes.

“What’re you in such a hurry for?” he asked, slurring his words together like a drunk guitar string.

“I’m supposed to hear back from this Publisher’s,” I said. I stood on my tiptoes trying to reach into the box.

“Aw shucks kid, that’s a rip off. Ain’t no money in that.” He nodded to himself and tapped his heels.

I snatched it from him, offering a belated thanks and rifled through the pile. Bill. Bill. Big brother’s nudie mag. Sear’s Roebuck catalog. Bill. Bill.

He staggered to the steps.

“Aren’t you going back in?”

“Nah.”

The door opened and a suitcase flew out.

He smiled adjusted his hat. “Well, honey I’m mighty pleased to hear your beautiful voice.”

I raised my eyebrows. “She throwed you out for that?”

“Well, I might have said that she could try out for one of them choirs for the deaf. And that’s why I’m out here.”

We then heard the most beautiful caterwhauling I’d ever heard. It sounded like a cat got its tail stepped on.

It brought tears to our eyes.

“I think she did you a favor Ike.”

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