Our Town – February 9, 2017

The Soupster faces off with old wisdom.

The airline passengers staggered out of the open doorway, blinking with disbelief that they had finally made it home. Each had a different story to tell. Collectively, the passengers had been spread over several towns as dense fog and stiff winds grounded planes throughout the region.

The passengers greeted their loved ones and wandered over to the baggage claim area. After only a moment, the yellow light at the airport started spinning and the luggage started coming around.

In the crowd waiting for bags, stood the Soupster. He sidled up to George “Thread” Cabot, known throughout Our Town as a speaker of brief, familiar comments. Both men scanned the passing luggage for their bags.

“Thread,” the Soupster greeted him. “You been traveling, too?”

“There’s no place like home,” Thread said. “Home is where the heart is.”

“Got that right,” said the Soupster. “Seems like ages since I’ve seen you, Thread.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Thread said.

“That’s nice of you to say,” said the Soupster, truly pleased. “Oops!” he said suddenly and reached across Thread to snag the first of his two bags.

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” Thread said, smiling.

“How many bags are you waiting for?” asked the Soupster.

“Two and two do not make five.”

“Four bags,” said the Soupster. “I’ve only got one more to grab.”

“To each according to his needs,” said Thread. Then he lunged forward and piled two cardboard boxes, one after the other, onto the floor. Each was labeled with Thread’s name.

“Think outside the box,” said Thread, anticipating the Soupster’s curiousity.

“Thread,” the Soupster said. “Why do you always talk in cliches?”

“Sticks and stones…” began Thread.

“Now don’t get riled up,” said the Soupster. Thread reached over and grabbed a large suitcase that blended well with the cardboard boxes.

“I’m not criticizing you.”

“Every bird loves to hear himself sing,” said Thread.

“Well, now we’re only waiting for one more bag each,” the Soupster added. In a moment, they appeared — first Thread’s, then the Soupster’s. Thread piled his four items onto a rolling cart.

“All good things must come to an end,” Thread said.

“Such an enigma!” the Soupster thought, looking at Thread..”Say, Thread,” he said. “Why are you named `Thread?’”

“A thread in time saves nine,” said Thread.

“That’s `a “stitch” in time saves nine,’” said the Soupster. “I’m sure of it.”

“Then it’s George `Stitch’ Cabot,” said the former Thread. aloud.

“Doesn’t bother you?” asked the Soupster.

“Nothing is certain but death and taxes,” said Stitch.