A Barney Yarn

Hellooo…Hic!…Funky Folks. How this yarn unravelled is beyond the pale.

After weeks, months and nearly a year of separating, distancing and isolation every folk in town was out painting the town red, so we had heard my girlfriend and I.

Not to miss out on the party we went to the local hardware to buy red paint.

The well trained server asked us with an open ended question, “Ah…Sounds like you have a project going. Is there anything else we can help you with, brushes, turpentine…?”

We explained why. With that he doubled up in mirth. After several minutes he straightened up from behind the counter looking composed, took one look at us and collapsed again.

We looked at each other, shrugged and leaned over the counter. Next thing the store’s security officer appeared looking puzzled.

“Is there a problem here folks?”

Suddenly he too was belly shaking in laughter.

This seemed to catch on. Everyone in the store joined in.

Eventually someone in a bright red shirt and a serious demeanor says to us, “Look you. You should go down to “The Place With No Name” that’s where all the red painting is happening.”

Rumor had it that no patron could remember where they had been the night before so when asked the reply was always. “Ah…Um…That place…you know…” even if they hadn’t it was a widely accepted excuse, always acknowledged with a, “Ah…You too.”

We waited awhile to get seats and ended up sharing one at a table that would normally seat six in a subdued situation. This folks was not a subdued time after isolation. It was elbow room only and we could see that this painting ruse was well under way.

After several cans we were on top the table, dancing to Queen’s “I Want To Break Free.” playing over the cacophony. We were joined by a some others on the table. Moved by the spirit of the occasion I lost my balance and fell into the lap of the bouncer’s girlfriend. In a flurry of fists I was under the table.

This Funky Folks did not go down at all well. The saying that “All hell broke loose” was an understatement.

There was a break in the melee, like a half-time resuscitation moment in a game of throws. Cans were passed around. Suddenly my girlfriend sees red and starts arguing with the bouncer’s girl about who was up and who was down. Well that was it. The barney went on till the cans ran out. I had been pummeled and painted into a corner.

We regaled this tale later and often when we could open our eyes once more and when the black and blue bruises had faded into memory. We bragged, “That folks was the best darn barney we ever did have.”

The tale grew as time went by. The bit about the hardware store in particular had townsfolk in belly rolls. Townsfolk could often be seen can-canning down at the “Place With No Name.”

The town was renamed much much later to “Cansmore” and became a hugh tourist attraction. The fellow in the red shirt became mayor and was known as “Mike. Mike from Cansmore.”

#funnybone