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How Rumours Spread
Funny how rumours start . . . this morning at the pool I just happened to metion to Bruce between laps, catching my breathe, that if Bentley was run over in a traffic accident in Mexico City, and they didn't let him out of hospital by the middle of August, the three tractors he left behind, collecting dust in our street and in front of the synagogue (where a.m. parking is at a premium) may be there forever, or some other long period of time.
Nosey Norman, who doesn't hear too well, and always butts into conversations at the half way mark, swam in last as usual and said "Bentley!? -- is he OK?", to which I responded that there had not been any requests to say psalms on his behalf, so I assume he is not in a bad way. Ditto for his wife.
Well from there, things just spingboarded! Bentley was run over by a car with a faulty brake lining on the left side. The car swerved to miss Susika, (a.k.a. Mrs Bentley) the driver slamming on the brakes, but swerving out of control because of the uneveness of the brakes, slamming right into poor old Bentley, fair and square head-on -- boom! whack! I think he flew 30 yards down the road. He was rushed to Mexico City's main trauma unit and remains there. You don't served there very quickly; as a result his condition worsened until he was finally seen to by the nursing staff.
Wow! Norman kept repeating the story over and over. He told everyone he saw, embellishing the story at every narration. I think by end of the morning, Bentley had lost limbs, and eventually even part of his head! The more the gruesome yarn was spun, the more ornamentations Norman added. I don't even want to tell you where it ended. Well done Normie!
But after all the commotion, my concern still remains: and that is, if Bentley is run over in a traffic accident in Mexico City, and they don't let him out of hospital by the middle of August, the three tractors he left here collecting dust may remain here forever . . . or even longer!
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