Helping Hand

Hello friends out in Blogland,

    It's a beeyoootiful afternoon here in Harlem. The sun is shining and the air is almost breathable! soon there will be leaves on the tree and the pigeons will be singing. 

So in our last get together I had just met the front end of some idiot's wrong way wride. I decided

to take a little nap (4 days is little in the scheme of things). There we were on the side of some road

that misty morning in E. London having had our journey jumbled:

While awaiting the arrival of the jaws of life to rip me out of what had become a “former” car so I could be put into an ambulance, they (Sluggy & co.) got an interesting visit from a group of locals.  Some folks from the nearest shanty town or village. As we saw on the road to E. London they usually consisted of many tin, cardboard or newspaper type dwellings along with one brick building for the chief of that tribe or clan (or however you want to label that grouping). After taking a look at the situation (the wreck and me already uncon…..  let’s just say resting) they asked if there were any crow bars or other equipment in the “boot” (trunk in SA lingo) available to pry me out of the predicament I was in.......

So… if you will, picture a mangled mass of metal with me in it sitting center stage, as that group of kind locals, led by their chief rhythmically enter and slowly surround little ole’ me….

HELPING HAND

Quite a calamity happened right here

We’ll give you a hand, a nice helping hand

Relax now, don’t worry, you’ve not much to hear

We’ll give you a hand, a nice helping hand

                                                                                                                                                                     The problem’s your mate there who’s trapped in his seat

We’ll give you a hand, a nice helping hand

Unfortunately seems he’s trapped quite complete

We’ll give you a hand, a nice helping hand

If someone can help us get into the boot

We’ll see if their bags are hiding lots of loot

We’ll still help the lad trapped up front

If he lives

When we have that big tip

We won’t ask “What gives?”

(“What gives man? What gives?”)..................

Well, were we going to be rescued or would we wait for weeks while wounded, wondering why we're being  wasted? WOW, when will we find out? I'm not sure about that but rest assured (or any way you wanna), and
join me when I finally decide to get off my bum (or actually get on it; I sit when blogging) and decide to delve
deeper into the dilemma. I'm hoping you'll be here when we find out if that hand helped or hindered. Until then
enjoy your day, evening, or morning, depending where you are when reading and I'll see you soon!!
Ciao....