"From the cow to the plow, Dewey," Windy said, leaning on a shovel. Windy Wilson was on another of his "helper days" and today it was Dewey Decker's turn to be helped.
"What do you mean, Windy?"
"You know ... a slogan for the business. From the cow to the plow. Fertilizer. Farming."
He was helping Dewey spread some product around at Mrs. Simmons yard, helping her anticipate a greener lawn this summer. Besides enriching the English language at every possible moment, Alphonse "Windy" Wilson devotes one day each week to helping someone, for free, here in the valley. He usually calls it his "enrichelating experience."
Windy went back to Dewey's pickup for the steel rake. "What you're doing here," Windy tossed back over his shoulder, "is plowing backly into our community the veriatable seedlets of hope and change for the future. Yes, if I can coagulate some ideas for assisticating your business, I'm delightable. We need ya, boy!"
"Thanks, Windy. Everyone's been so nice. You know Emily's coming up with new ways of using cow manure so we can ... well, spread out a bit more."
"Absotively. I heard that sweet little chickadee of yours was masticating some ideas that are ultra noo voe and knife bladely sharp. She's a honey."
"She sure is. She thinks we might get a steel tank and pour manure in it, then fill it with water. She says they call it 'fertilizer tea' or something and it's good to spray on crops."
"No foolin'? Won't you have to buy one a them sprayer thingies to drag behind a tractor?"
Dewey stopped shoveling and thought. "Now that you mention it, we'd have to have some way to get it on the field. But you know about me and machinery ..."
Dewey's being monumentally self-destructive around anything valuable, movable or sharp was certainly no secret.
"Why son," Windy said, "you just worry about getting that tractor ignitified, and I'll drive 'er for you."
"You'd do that?"
Windy put his hand on his heart. "Dewey, my word is my blonde."