:'

Evening English sign-ups.

Nobody showed.




THAT'S THAT. Feel free to laugh at me now.

I know I kind of am.

A Burma Shave story.

So I grew up partway in a neighborhood widely believed to be a haven for aging hippies - nice folks, parents of older kids, part-time musicians and people with wacky lawn art. And lots of people who got up early to walk their dogs.

One day five little signs pop up, set across someone's broad front lawn.

[IF YOUR DOG]
[HAS TO SHEET]
[KINDLY PULL HIM]
[TO THE STREET]
[~Burma Shave~]

Cars slow down, rumors spread, people giggle. A few weeks pass, and five more signs – in the same font, or near to it – appear three blocks over.

[IF DUE TO DOODOO]
[YOU HARM MY LASSIE]
[I'LL BE FORCED TO]
[KICK SOME ASSIE!]
[~Burma Shave~]

My mother, for one, is delighted. I get to learn about Burma Shave.

Not much later, the first set of signs go down, and there's a little worry. Was the original rhyming neighbor offended? Maybe the second set was too harsh.

Not to fear: they were only making room.

[LABS, DALMATIONS, COLLIES]
[OR ANY MIXED BREED]
[I WOULD LOVE THEM ALL]
[IF THEY ONLY PEED]
[~Burma Shave~]