Tonight while the grill heated up for some scrumptious fresh-grilled burger action, I mowed the back yard. Well, ok, I didn’t mow it so much as beat it into submission, given the fact that my mower blade, which hasn’t been sharpened in two seasons, doesn’t so much cut the grass as argue fiercely with it until it commits seppuku. So I performed ritualistic debowelment on my back yard.

Afterwards, I decided that the grass had paid enough for its sins (heathen as it is) and removed the blade and made my way down to the local repair shop. Now, you have to realize that this was at 9:25pm tonight, way past hours that would normally encompass such things.

B&L Small Engine Repair was, however, open. Not only was it open, but there was lively activity there as the proprietor and his wife were running the shop and their son was conversing with some patrons while everyone milled around the various numbers of motorcycles, lawn mowers, and other garden paraphenalia. I left the car running and walked up.

“How’s it going?” the owner said. “Fine,” I said.

“What can I do for ya?”

“Can I get my mower blade sharpened?”

“Sure!” he replied and immediately took it from me and trotted off to the back part of the shop.

Now, I had left the car running because I fully expected him to put one of those wire tags on it, label it “Nathan Pralle’, and do it tomorrow sometime. But no, before I could ask or even guess, he had a healthy gush of sparks eminating from the grinding wheel. So, I went back, shut off my car, and came to stand in the doorway for a bit.

Thinking better of it after a few minutes of watching, I said to his wife that I was going to get my checkbook and headed back home, snagged the fake money billfold, and ran back. The blade was done by the time I got back, shiny and new looking, and an edge that announced that it meant business. Grass would no longer philosophize with this blade — they would BOW and bow hard.

The next pleasant surprise was the bill: $3.21

No, that’s not a typo. Three fucking dollars and 21 cents for the bloody government. Where else in the world can you show up at a repair shop at 9:25pm, ask to have your mower blade sharpened, get it done on the spot, and waltz out of there 12 quarters, two dimes, and a penny lighter? Is that fucking awesome or what?

There are a lot of disadvantages to living in a small town. The bank is open from 9-12, 1-3. The grocery store is open 8 to 6 only. The post office is open 10-12, 2:30 -4. But there’s definite plusses, too.

Like a blade of Ultimate Sharpness (+2 attack).