It smells like a decomposing monkey in here. My home office (aka The Bunker) shares a wall with our garage, and every time it gets hot and humid outside… there’s a mild hint of dead animal in the air. We’ve never had any issues with varmints, that I’m aware of, so it’s confusing to me. One thing I know for sure: I don’t care for it.
Right now it’s kicking harder than usual. Hopefully there’s not a stack of dead hobos in our garage. Admittedly, I don’t go in there very often. Perhaps word has spread throughout the underground community that the corner of our garage is the place to go for dying hobos?
It’s the only explanation I can come up with. That, and a team of spider monkeys getting trapped behind the drywall every summer for years. Those are the only plausible scenarios, as far as I can tell. Help me out, won’t you? What else could it be?
Two Fridays ago I was sitting in our living room reading, at 1:20 am. Oh, I’m quite the party animal… I’m WILD, I tell ya! In fact, I was reading this book, which is far geekier than the stuff I usually choose. But it was fantastic. I loved the shit out of that thing.
Anyway, it was very late, and I was the only one still up. The two hooligans were even sleeping at that time, which is unusual. And I heard somebody run toward our house, yank open the screen door, and POUND on the wooden door. Four bangs, possibly five, and nothing else.
I about deep-soiled the loveseat, and sprang to my feet. Should I open the door? Yeah, that thought actually went through my head for about half a second. Then I remembered: this ain’t a 1980s slasher flick. I don’t HAVE to act irrationally. So, I just stood in front of the door, waiting for something else to happen. And it never did.
Kids! Dumbass kids out wandering the streets, on one of the first weekends of the summer, doing dumbass things. I’m almost certain that’s what it was. But, what if? It’s very unnerving, somebody BANGING on your front door in the middle of the night.
It woke Toney up, and she called the cops on the non-emergency line. And within five minutes, possibly three, an imposing white SUV was slowly driving up and down our street with a powerful spotlight shining between every house.
And that’s the end of the story. There’s nothing else to report, thankfully. But it gave me my cardio workout for the day, that’s for sure. Not a fan.
I see stupid crap like this on Facebook all the time, and almost never click through. But, for whatever reason, I checked this one out and laughed my ass off. I think it was the headline, or maybe it was the fact that a longtime Surf Reporter posted it?
In any case, these guys were supposedly trying to pull off their own Jackass stunt, and things either went horribly wrong or right, depending on your point of view.
I had many thoughts while watching this (four times), but at the top of my thought-list is this: if we’d been able to talk one of our friends into doing something so stupid, I wouldn’t have jumped in and started knocking fire ants off of his wang like that. Ya know? He and his mangled sac ‘n’ shaft would be on their own at that point. Oh, I might’ve sprayed high pressure water on it, like that one dude. But nothing with my bare hands.
Also, I laugh every time when he flings his underwear out of frame, like a Frisbee. And I love that people are driving by during the ordeal. Please share your thoughts on this important artifact of the early 21st Century.
Finally, I spent three days in the Yurt Village last week, and it went well. I had a word-count target I wanted to hit, and didn’t come anywhere near it. But I got ‘er started, and it feels like the novel is officially underway. I view that as a win. And… the stuff I wrote is pretty strong, I think. So, I’m happy.
While there, I had two international visitors. I didn’t know the state park attracted so many people from other countries. Perhaps it’s the abundance of gnats and high humidity that draws them in?
One night a fairly powerful storm rolled through, and a nervous Frenchman came a-calling. He wanted to know why I didn’t hunker down in the bathhouse, because of the “tornado.” I said, “Huh?”
Rangers were riding around the park, he explained via heavily-accented speech, telling everyone to go to the bathhouse because of a tornado warning. I told him I knew nothing of this, and he seemed to be concerned about it. Why had they not informed me? I could’ve been killed!
I just shrugged and told him it was all over now. “No tornado,” I assured him. But he was clearly unsatisfied, and walked away muttering to himself in French.
Another night a young couple with deep-seated British accents knocked on my door. They said they wanted to rent a cabin, but nobody was in the guard shack. I didn’t know how to help them, but pointed them in the direction of the camper near the entrance, with a sign out front that reads HOST.
They asked how I liked the yurt, and I told them they’re pretty freaking kick-ass. Not that bluntly, of course, but that was the general vibe I conveyed. “Wanna take a look?” I said, and held open the screen door.
The wife or girlfriend said yes, and began moving forward. But the dude said No! and started to back away. WTF? Again, I shrugged — this time the international sign for ‘whatever.’ And they left, the guy with his arm around the girl in a protective posture. Sheesh. I imagine he was saying, “That bloke probably has a stack of decomposing hobos in there.”
Anyway, I got three solid chapters written. Some funny stuff, I think. I want to knock it out and not let it drag and drag and drag like the last one. Wish me luck.
I have to go to work now. Have yourselves a great week, my friends.
I’ll see you again soon.