Now this fissure was small at first and only ate a few Huron Nation Native American huts, three French hens and an old Yugo. Over time though this fissure becaume a giant hemorrhoid of pothole creation, spewing them like the kid during school lunch who ate twelve of those cafeteria mystery meat sandwiches on a one dollar dare.
We Willisfolk are not a bunch of whiny victims. We organized, filled the holes with cow patties and quick drying concrete, got all the riding mowers out and attached those mole flatting rollers behind them, and fought back. Then we called the road commission and bitched like a bunch of Maple Leaf fans when they didn't win the Stanley cup for the 74th time in a row.
The Willis Road Commission takes great pride in some of the complaints and has begun to post them under the frequently asked questions link on their website:
Why can't you just PAVE the damn road? (For some reason this one causes hysterical laughter whenever asked)
I sacrificed two children and a goat to the pothole gods and there are more of them now than ever. What am I doing wrong?
I filled one of them potholes with Uncle Jerry's Playboy magazine collection and it didn't even stop me from losing my suspension. When does the class action lawsuit start?
If I hit a pothole in Willis, how long will it take before the sound of my spine snapping is heard in New York City?
I'm rambling. Its one symptom of PCS. Pothole Concussion Syndrome. Other PCS symptoms include a compulsion to hoard fix-a-flat, leaky bowels when driving, a belief that all radio stations are hosted by Porky Pig, Pothole flashbacks during work meetings, and uncontrollable shrieking whenever a Willis map is displayed.
We shall adapt, we shall overcome. Some of us are buying helicopters. Others give in completely to the pothole nirvana and buy monster trucks like the world famous Pot Hole Digger and Bigfoot Eater. Some neighbors like Action Man, continue to work nonstop to fill the potholes with sod, old socks and recycled bubblegum from the underside of school desks.
Me? I wrote an Ode to Potholes hoping to scare off the sadistic muse that torments my village with potholes and bad poets.
(To the tune of Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire)
Potholes are evil things
And so I begin to sing
Bound to blow my tire
This pothole plague is very dire
I fell into a pothole quagmire
My car went down, down, down and the pothole went higher
and it grows, grows, grows, my mounting ire
Level pavement is mighty sweet
And I love a well made street
I like a commute that's mild
But Oh, our roads get me riled
I fell into a pothole quagmire
My car went down, down, down and the pothole went higher
and it grows, grows, grows, my mounting ire
my mounting ire
my mounting ire!
my mounting ire!!