Herkimer for the Homerun

I had a hot little fire going in the wood stove; keeps the workshop quite cozy.  Had just settled into the lounger, had the ballgame, sound muted, on the telly.  Heard the door hinge behind me s-k-r-a-w-k and that is why I don't oil the thing-- alerts me to the pending disturbance.

Herkimer came in, stamping his feet, slapping his hands together.  "When will this winter be over?" he whined.

"About six weeks," I said.  "What's with the long face?"

"That woman!  Can I hang out here awhile?  She's all bent out of shape."

Now I know that Tildy can get "bent out of shape," and I also know that in most instances Herk precipitates the crisis.   "What did you do now?"

"You always have to take her side, assume I'm in the wrong."

"I'm not taking sides.  Anyway, who spends a lot of his time in my warm man-cave? What'd ya do?"

"Okay," says Herk, "lunch over and we are sitting at the table, she is setting up her pills in one of those little by-the-week containers.  She dumps a few tablets on the table and proceeds to break each one in two.  'What?' says I.  'Are those the pills for a woman who is only half-crazy?'"

"Pull up a crate and have a seat, Herk.  But when the fire burns out, you're out of here and on your own."