Lord of the Manor
By D.L. Stewart
The woman who promised to love and honor decides that we
need a lamppost in our front yard.
"We're the only ones on the block without a lamppost in our
front yard," she points out. "How are people supposed to find our place at
"Simple. Tell them to look for the only house on the block
that's dark," I reply.
"What about burglars? What's going to happen if a crook
comes along some night when we're not home and finds the place all dark?"
"I know exactly what's going to happen. He's going to take
three steps into the yard, fall over a big wheel, land in a pile of bikes, get
up, twist his ankle on a soccer ball, and catch it right in the throat from a
badminton that hasn't been put away since Lyndon Johnson."
"Okay," she concedes, "I really think we need a lamppost in
our front yard, but if you don't want one, I won't push it. It's entirely up to
you. I'll go along with whatever you decide. You are, after all, the lord of
the house and the king of the castle."
"It's nice of you to be so understanding. I guess I could
consider putting one in sometime."
"Good. It's in the garage."
"The lamppost. I bought it three days ago."