If only he had been the tax collector

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I've been trying to make better decisions. This is a story about two good decisions gone bad.

I'd slipped and fallen the day before on my rain soaked, slimy, long-neglected wooden deck. When it was that time of day again and yet another rainy day, I decided to use my front porch to get high on instead. Falling is very bad for aging women, so the front covered stone porch was the better choice to get stoned on for sure.

After a couple of really good tokes, I decided to brave going around back anyway to check the chickens before coming in the back door. Because it was raining petty hard, I left the classy green marble ashtray with its gold plated rim, a lighter and half a joint right outside my front door. It would only take a minute for me to walk through the house and get the contraband from the immediate purview of anyone who might chance to stop by at that very moment. This was my second good choice.


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I'd just stepped in the back door when the front doorbell rang.

"Oh shit" I said under my breath. I took a couple of steadying breaths, and hurried to the front door.

There stood a sheriff, a sheaf of papers in hand.

"What are you doing here?" I eventually asked.

"Well, I am Sheriff soandso, and I am here to serve you this." He seemed nervous - I wonder now if he was relieved when a little old lady opened the door.

"Why did they send a sheriff?" like I know when they send a sheriff and when they don't.

"For the important things, they send a sheriff."

I stepped out just a tiny bit to block his view of the ashtray he could not have missed.

"I'm getting stoned just standing here" he said.


This is my entry to @mariannewest freewrite challenge https://steempeak.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-601-5-minute-freewrite-thursday-prompt-tax



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