Murphy, I stand corrected.
A couple of weeks ago I blamed Murphy for my delinquent Net connection. I had switched from cable internet to Broadband, expecting salvation to follow. But three excruciating weeks later, I was still beset with the same woes. I’d log on for a couple of hours and suddenly find myself bereft. From gnashing of teeth and wringing of hands, I graduated to choice cuss words. The carefully cultivated composure would evaporate every time I found the cable operator’s phone switched off. Finally, one morning, I got him on the phone…
He hurried over to my house before I could chew off his other ear. He set off tinkering with the wires while I scorched his back with the ferocity of my gaze. He examined the cables studiously before turning to face me and stammered, “I go check cable box outside."
I waited. The eyebrow stayed arched, the foot continued tapping. He came back, looking like he’d been in a scuffle. “Well,” I asked icily, “did you fix the faulty cables?”
“Medem, wire was ok. But pigeons had put off switch.”
I snarled.
He took a step backward and continued, “Pigeon make nest in cable box. They was putting on-off switch. But now I take out them and lock the box.”
He picked out feather bits from his shirt cuffs and then pointed to the screen, “Net bees working now.”
I stared at the screen dumbfounded and deflated. A conspiracy by pigeons!
And I thought the worst they could do was aim their droppings at you…
