Another hilarious tale by funny motivational speaker Kelly Swanson – just to make you laugh
The Protest Outside the Piggly Wiggly
Hey. It’s me again. I don’t have much time, so I have to be quick.
There was a protest today outside of the Piggly Wiggly. Got a little bit out of hand. Everybody’s okay. We got it all worked out. And the roads are opened up again. Well, technically, it was just one road – and it was never really blocked all the way. We’re way too polite here to keep people from passing by. And the high school JV team was headed to an away game, and there isn’t a protest on the planet that’s gonna block us from getting our team bus to where it needs to be. I’m just saying. Go Eagles. But that’s neither here nor there. You want to know about the protest. I hear ‘ya. Get to the point as my husband Bill always says.
We don’t get many protests around here in Prides Hollow, at least not the formal kind. There’s plenty of people objecting to stuff on an ongoing basis. We just choose to object while we’re standing in line at the drug store. But I reckon even small towns like ours feel the need every now and then to stand up for something in an organized fashion.
It all started with the new sign. You know the one that the town council voted on. Big old yellow sign – ugly if you ask me. Right out there between the middle school and the Little Mouse Playhouse. Drive by and you can’t miss it. Totally ruins the ambience if you ask me. Which as my Bill says if they did ask me, they’d never get the blasted sign done, the way I’m always changing my mind.
Anyway….the sign went up on Tuesday. I know that for sure cause I was at the Piggly Wiggly using my Turnip Tuesday coupon and a group of us were at the window watching them put up that sign. And when they finally drove off, we all stopped to take it in – pulling out our smart phones to share the news. We are all about the social media these days.
We were so busy tweeting about the sign that we didn’t really read it fully. So it took a minute for us to realize the horrible thing our town council had done. Why how could they? How insensitive! This is shocking. Forget politically correct, this was just downright rude. And I had just tweeted it out to fifty-seven followers.
Who would think that three little words– screaming out on a yellow sign by the side of the road – would have caused so much fury. You’ll understand when you hear. This is when Bill usually says, Quit dragging it out and just tell us already. So I will.
That big yellow sign that could be seen three counties over said:
Slow Children Crossing
Now, I think it’s bad enough to call any child of God slow. But we all knew that Ray Jean’s boy Wade crosses that way every day – in that exact same spot – on his way to get his Grandma her pack of Winstons. And we all know that folks have been calling Wade slow ever since he shot off his pinkie toe and tried to glue it back on. Backwards. Bless his heart. So maybe he isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. And maybe some of us do whisper a little about it – just inside our own home. But that’s not the same as painting up a sign to let all the world know that this right here is where a slow child crosses the street.
We all rushed home to spread the word that something needed to be done about this political incorrectness. Thanks to our savvy social media skills, we had that protest planned by dinner, and the next day at precisely 3:20pm when Wade would be crossing that street, a group of us protesters stood there waiting for him, holding up our signs in solidarity.
My sign said Jesus loves ALL his children– and maybe even the slow ones a little bit more. My sign was the only one that had to be continued on the back. My husband said don’t that just figure. I told him just you wait until they put up a sign that says Slow Old People Crossing, and see how you feel then.
Every once in a while a car would pass by and honk loudly – and we’d all scream and wave our signs.
When Wade came across the street right on schedule, people cheered for him, and he gave us his normal confused look. Then we realized maybe he didn’t know the sign was talking about him, so we all acted natural and looked the other way while he walked by.
It was a mostly peaceful protest until the opposition showed up. If there was one thing our town thrived on, it was having a difference of opinion. And since children were at stake in this protest, it got quite heated.
There were words exchanged. A couple of subtle threats. And Mary almost got stepped on when she decided to lay down on the sidewalk to protest, like she saw on the TV. But then she decided the concrete was too hard on her back, and it took three protesters to help her get back up and brush the twigs and gravel out of her hairpiece.
People started fighting about free speech. Others shouting about unity. And some just shouting to be shouting. When the local news showed up with their camera, it got worse because everybody wanted their moment of fame.
In all the chaos, it took a while for us to notice Chicklet (his real name’s Fred), come up in his city worker overalls, carrying a bucket and a paint brush. Where is it? He asked. Where’s what? We asked. The sign, he said. The one I’m supposed to fix.
We all pointed to the sign, amazed at how fast our protest had worked.
We all watched Chicklet walk up to the sign, pop up the ladder, climb up, dip his brush, reach up, apply one stroke. And stepped down. Closed the ladder. And shuffled off.
We couldn’t imagine that such a big problem would get fixed so fast. As we got closer, we saw that all he had done was added one tiny mark. One tiny mark that suddenly changed everything. A comma.
The sign that just minutes before said Slow Children Crossing. Now said Slow, Children Crossing.
The news station got a kick out of telling our story that night. Someone even made a joke that there was a new sign being made called Slow Protesters Crossing. I’ve never seen my husband Bill in such a good mood.
Anyway, I gotta go. I just heard they found a dead body in the sanctuary. Oh Lord, this is gonna be big. I’ll be back to fill you in.
Until then, just remember – you didn’t hear it from me.
This has been Kelly Swanson, bringing you the latest word from the small town with the big heart. Where the people stay, but the gossip travels.