The Friar Versus the GrayHeads: Part II


Well, it seems my on-going feud with some of the local seniors is town is slowly fizzling out. Though I seem to have gained my own local Deep Friar Fan Club.

Week 7

The previous week, I had suggested that some stores might want to extend their hours till 5:30.   Well, there was no mention of me in the paper this week.   Nobody wrote in about how I insulted the whole town, or how I should go back to the Big City I don’t like it.   (Gee, I can’t help but feel somewhat neglected.) 

But the town is still buzzing about me.    My buddy said he overheard people discussing my editorial at the post office.  My neighbour said he heard two Mommies debating the issue at the day care.   Not to mention countless people have been approaching me at work, and are continuing to tease me by asking what I think of the Cheezi-Mart this week.  

The best, though, was when I got another long-winded phone message from Hugh McDepends.   Apparently, he spent the last 2-3 weeks driving around town, and took it upon himself to check out all the local businesses and the hours they kept.  He pointed out to me that most hours are, in fact extended to 5:30.    And that I should have done my “homework” before I submitted my last editorial.   (Well, that’s why I said “some” stores…but oh, never mind.)

Apparently (according to Hughie) I’ve really “put my foot into it”  this time….and I was going to catch a “load of crap” from the town.  He also mentionned that he came by my house to see me…but that I was out, and he’d try to get back to me later.  He re-iterated several times that I’d be “catching a lot of crap”. (That’s probably the worst curse word he’s ever been allowed to say)

Great.  So now I have my own senior stalker…

Old Hughie actually DID come by the other day to see me in person.   He seemed harmless enough.   But he was obviously on a MISSION.   He (get this!) apologized to me, because he had wanted to get in touch with me sooner to inform me about the store hours, so that I could properly report the facts, before writing into the paper.  It might have saved me all the “trouble” I got myself into. (Ooohhh..the seniors are mad at me!)  And he hadn’t seen my car for several days,  he was almost worried if I had gotten “driven out of town”.  

You know, some old people have WAY TOO MUCH free time on their hands.

A few more minor incidents.  My old landlord stopped his truck and called out to me on the street.  He thought my letters were hilarious.   Then, even today, as I was lining in the liquor store, someone sarcastically asked me “Are the store hours here long enough for you?”.

Sigh.  Only in Splat Creek.

This town really needs something else to bitch about.  Wonder what else I can write about next?   Hmmm…maybe I could rant about the Seniors getting a discount at the local donut shop.  

But knowing Splat Creek, that might get me shot.

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5 Comments on “The Friar Versus the GrayHeads: Part II”

  1. Sandie Says:

    Ah…great humor is a delight on a Friday. Thank you!!!

  2. Friar Says:


    What’s even funnier, is that I’m not making this stuff up. This is where I ACTUALLY LIVE. (Only the names have been changed).

    Looking forward to checking out your blog once your “construction” is done.

  3. […] you write a Letter to the Editor to the local paper, and then have some old retired fart harass you on the phone, and try to come by your house to talk to you, because he doesn’t agree with what you […]

  4. […] If you recall, a few months ago I wrote a letter to the Splat Creek Chronicle, bitching about the crummy store hours and the bad customer service we get in town.  This was hardly what I’d consider ground-breaking Op-Ed journalism.   But my editorials riled up the townsfolk and the debate lasted a good 6-7 weeks, with angry letters flying back and forth.  I even experienced my first Senior Stalker (see Friar Versus the Grayheads Part I and Part II). […]

  5. […] nasty phones calls yet, and no Senior Stalkers coming to my house.  However, several co-workers (including my old landlord who stopped me on the […]

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