It was Dewey who rang Marvin Pincus’s doorbell. Dewey of the multiple “fatalities.” Dewey the accident prone. Dewey who overturned a truck full of grease on the interstate, got his dad’s pickup stuck in the mud during a drought, and managed to release several dozen steers from the local feedlot.
He told Marvin he was there for the counseling and had saved up some money from his fertilizer delivery service, and needed some help. Marvin delightedly showed Dewey into the fly-tying room and saw that he was comfortably settled in the new green “client’s” chair. Marjorie made a pot of coffee and brought them each a cup, then quietly closed the door so they could have privacy.
“So Dewey,” Marvin said, “what can I help you with today?”
“I heard you can tie flies and help people with their love lives, Marvin.”
Marvin nodded, basking in his Randy/Katie-results fame.
“You might have heard that I sometimes have … well, accidents. I think that may hurt my love life.”
“In what way, Dewey?”
“I don’t have one.”
Marvin reached into his drawer and took out a number 6 hook and began wrapping it with lead wire. “For this we’ll need to go deep into your past, Dewey, so I’m tying you a wooly bugger with a lead wire wrap to dive down to the seat of your problems. See the fly getting heavier and heavier? Let it take you back … back … back. Now, when did you first notice your love life suffering?”
“Right after I began hauling cow manure into town for gardeners.”
Marvin stopped his green chenille in mid wrap, flipped up his magnifying lenses and looked closely at Dewey. He also used his olfactory senses.
“Dewey,” Marvin said, choosing his words carefully, “before you ask a girl out … do you shower?”
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