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Blogs by Auguste Dinoto
The benefits of having a good memory. 10/28/2012 4:54:25 PM
How good is your Memory?
Hi, my name is Auguste Dinoto and I can remember when gas was less than a dollar a gallon. Now I’m not bragging about my memory because I know an old Indian who has the best memory I’ve ever seen.
He and his best friend, a farmer, come into town every Saturday afternoon. When someone comes along, the old farmer says, “I bet you ten bucks my friend here can remember anything that ever happened in this town.”
So the other guy said, “Okay, what happened at two-thirty in the afternoon, on Monday, May the third, on the corner of Sixth and Main, in 1936?”
The old Indian thinks a moment. “A farmer driving a black 1925 Ford ran into the side of a produce wagon killing three laying hens, a pig, and a Rhode Island Red rooster. He was fined two dollars and twenty five cents for reckless driving.”
A few minutes later another guy comes along, and he took the bet. “What happened on Pot Hole Road, at four-thirty in the morning, on September tenth, 1921?
The old Indian thinks a moment. “Mrs. Mary Brown’s old bull, called Fatso kicked over an oil lantern and burned the barn down. Fatso was trapped in the barn and was cooked to a golden brown before the bucket brigade put out the fire. The next day Mary gave a free, all-you-can-eat barbecue dinner and was voted citizen of the year.”
This went on for years. The old Indian and farmer were making money hand over fist. Well the Devil, who everyone knows is not one of our most outstanding citizens, was watching them from deep in the ground. He waited until they got back to the farm. When the old Indian walked into the barn he came blazing up through the ground with the smell of brimstone and fire everywhere. The frightened old Indian stumbled back.
The devil stepped right up in front of him and tapped him on the chest with a finger. “You are always betting money that you can remember everything that ever happened in this town. How would you like to bet something important, like your soul?”
The shaking old Indian nodded.
The Devil glared in to his face with blazing red eyes and said. “Do you like eggs?”
"Yes,” said the old Indian.
The Devil suddenly disappeared. A thousand years went by, two thousand years passed. Finally five thousand years later, the devil looked up through the ground. The old Indian who was pretty tired and stiff about this time was resting his tired old bones out behind the barn one Sunday afternoon. Well the Devil, being the kind of guy he was, came up inside the barn where the old guy could not see him. He looked around the barn and saw some Indian paint on a table. He put lines under his eyes and another line of paint down his nose. He picked up an Indian blanket from a hook and draped it over his shoulders. Holding the blanket closed at the throat, he walked outside, stopped in front of the old Indian and in traditional Indian greeting he raised his right hand and said, “How?”
The old Indian squinted up at him and said, “Scrambled.”
Don’t forget to check out my $29.95 report, THE END OF THE OIL AGE. It is FREE with a download of my book, DARK DAWNING at http://darkdawning.com
