Six Beans

S

No one ever quite understood how Vernon Simms could be so closemouthed about it all. Ever since his six improbable years of marriage to the esteemed (just ask her) Annabeth Chase ended in divorce, the lanky handyman hadn’t spoken a peep about it. And believe me – when the town’s only power tie-wearing female executive marries, then divorces, its happy-go-lucky handyman, it’s news.

So when Vernon took to the Wheezer’s stage on Open Mike Night, we all held our breath and hoped for a little insight. What we got, amazingly, was the whole enchilada.

At first, however, we thought he might have lost his marbles. Instead of grabbing the microphone, he pulled out a table and chair, sat down and pretended to regard the dinner before him. Then, looking up at us, he set down his imaginary fork, nodded at what remained of his imaginary meal, and began to sing:

I’ve got six beans on my plate
One for each year that we were together
’till Fate set her free
with that young maitre d’
And now they both just give me gas.

Now I will admit I was kind of a bum
Just sitting around watching every rerun
While she slaved every day
And brought home all that pay
But just between us I think she liked it that way.

See, I ate my Doritos, drank beer in our bed
Wore boots to her parties, feed hats on my head
And she thought I was raw
And just like her Pa
But in spite of herself she just loved me yee-haw.

So she’d go off to work and then I’d start to thinkin’
Instead of this cleaning, man I could be drinkin’
And I’d head to the bar
In her bright red sports car
And sometimes that bar could be terribly far.

She didn’t like that much.

So she frowned and she stomped and then after I said
That I couldn’t help it if my neck was red
So she got back at me
With that young maitre d’
Who gave her priority seating, you see.

Well, we got our lawyers and then went to trail
The case could be seen live all over the dial
And I thought I was done
Said goodbye to my fun
And watched as she sat back and thought she had won.

Then the judge pointed at me and barked, “YOU, take the stand,”
Then whispered, “Don’t worry, son, I understand
I took my own wife for three hundred grand.”

Sooo, now I’ve got six beans on my plate
One for each year that we were together
’till Fate set her free
With that young maitre d’
And now they both just give me gas…for my Porsche
And gas for my Rover
And gas for my friends who are coming right over
To jump up for joy
And fondle with glee
All this great stuff
The judge awarded to me.

After that, the party adjourned to Vernon’s place, where I’m here to report that a good time – a very good time – was had by all.

About the author

Eric Johnson

Not to be confused with all the other Eric Johnsons out there, I'm the one who writes. I'm a journalist, editor and fiction writer with nearly 30 years of experience under my belt, and I can help you achieve your communications goals. Just let me know how I can help.

By Eric Johnson

Dispatches from a Burly Flow

Eric Johnson

Not to be confused with all the other Eric Johnsons out there, I'm the one who writes. I'm a journalist, editor and fiction writer with nearly 30 years of experience under my belt, and I can help you achieve your communications goals. Just let me know how I can help.

Get in touch

I can offer services as a one off or on retainer. Have a question? Want a quote? Send me an email and we’ll take it from there.