“It’s a miracle, Bobby!”

(Sorry dudes; the back of the coupon is bleeding through, and ain’t worth fixin’.)

That’s what my mother said about anything lacking easy explanation. It had religious import.
I get a packet of advertising every month in my mail. I shred most, but one flyer stood out.
It’s above.
Filter-screens atop your gutters — to keep leaves from piling up.
I looked at the flyer, “before” and “after.”
“After” is clean enough to eat off. The gutters are spotless, as is the roof.
“Before” is grungy. Leaves clutter everything. Some are rotting.
Install these leaf-filters, and leaves no longer fall off trees. If they do, “they in deep trouble.”
Leaf-filter or not, I bet leaves still pile up.
Whatever; I don’t have that problem.
My roof is spotless, as are my gutters.
No trees are near my house.
Why is it some contractor has to make a killing fleecing dreamers?
Worse yet, why does anyone believe this stuff?
A buffet meal at a nearby gambling casino costs 26 buckaroos.
Whadda they servin’? Beluga caviar?
My niece, my only local relative, suggests for that $26 I also get a ticket to the gambling floor. “If you used that ticket instead of being so pinch-penny, yer meal might cost less.”
“It also might cost more,” I say. “If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all!” TWANG!
Pass! No leaf-filters fer this kid!
If I plant trees next to my house, I’m gonna get leaves.  —Unless them leaf-filters magically stop the growing season.

• “Bobby” is me, Bob Hughes, BobbaLew.