Daily American Tales

Frank Miller wasn't trying to start anything. He just bought twenty pumpkins. That was it. It was a Tuesday morning in October, and Frank had been retired for about six months. He was still getting used to having nowhere to be. For thirty-six years, he'd worked for the town's public works department. If a streetlight went out, Frank knew who to call. If a park bench broke, Frank could usually fix it himself. If a water pipe decided to cause trouble at six in the morning, somebody usually called Frank. Then he retired. And suddenly, nobody needed him at six in the morning. His wife, Margaret, thought he was handling retirement just fine. Frank disagreed. “You're bored,” she told him one morning. “I'm not bored.” “You've cleaned the garage twice.” “It needed cleaning.” “You reorganized the tools.” “They were a mess.” “You counted the screws.” Frank looked at her. “That was one time.” Margaret smiled. “Bored.” Frank picked up his coffee. “Maybe a little.” It Starte...