The Freight House Office Salesperson-lady lets a small grin and says, "Well, actually it’s our wn fault in a way," she takes a look at theCAD-screen and continues, "We were ready to buy the materials and build our own house. And so, Wileand and I were in the Burdock one Saturday with all the brouchures and plans for houses there was only one slightest catch."
"Catch?" I ask.
"The broucures and plans were wonderful," she admits, "But it was the price lists that shot our plans down."
"Those pesky price-lists," I sympathize.
"Everything was pretty much out of our price-bracket unless we wanted to be in debt until the next ice-age," the Frieght House Salesperson goes on, "What we could afford would’ve made a great starter-house for five year-olds to have their tea-parties in."
"Wileand finnally threw the brouchures into a pile in the middle of the table and said, we’d be lucky if we could build a two-stall garage, and that’s when we hear from a bystander," the Freight House Lady lowers her voice an octave, "If it were me, I’d go ahead and put up a new steel machine shed, and remodel it as I want along."
The Freight House Lady looks at me earnestly, "And then the bystander, walks, or saunters his way off, drinking a twenty-four ounce can of that murkey-green pop they serve there at the Burdock."