Dirty, Dirty T-Hoe

Today I'd like to introduce a new game: Dirty, Dirty T-Hoe. It's just like Hungry, Hungry Hippos, except instead of battling to eat more marbles than your opponents (who came up with that kids' game, anyway?), you park your filthy car in someone's driveway and see how long before they complain. The winner is the one whose nasty ride lasts the longest. Okay. So maybe it's not all that much like Hungry, Hungry Hippos. But the name is catchy.

Unfortunately, even though I might reap great profits on the copyright of my new game, I think I would not be a winner. I'd be out sooner than those smartmouth kids who play The Quiet Game by yelling out, "I LOSE!" in the first five seconds, then never shut up. So if you're about to graduate with a teaching degree...keep that in mind. Have a backup plan.

Anyhoo...let's get to the inspiration for my new game. Yesterday I drove over to the Freight Container Garage because I smelled smoke. Oh, I didn't have any intention of saving Hick from a burning building, pulling him to safety with my teeth while doing an army crawl, once my knees gave out. No, I was not seeking hero status or a viral video or even a headline on joeh's Stupid Headline Sunday. Nope. I figured Hick was at his burn pile, and wanted to see if he needed anything from my trip to town. Because I'm selfless like that. I don't disappear without a trace like he does, and return with assorted sundries for HE, but none for ME.

I pulled up and saw Hick walk out the door and toward his truck! Which, I might add, though I hate to, so much that it will probably evolve into a post of its own with a picture...was hooked up to his homemade trailer. Made from a TRUCK BED and covered with a CAMPER SHELL. None of which match, of course. Anyhoo...Hick didn't even come to T-Hoe to see what I wanted. So I had to get out and step my way through less-muddy patches of mud to get onto the very expensive gravel that was poured as a base for his freight containers and concrete.

While chastising Hick for his inattention and also a slight of enormous proportions that will indeed have its own post at a later date...I looked back and saw T-Hoe.

"Huh. Maybe one of these days you'll take him for a car wash like I asked a couple months ago." Let the record show that Val developed a phobia of car washes a few years back, and doesn't want to take a chance on being trapped inside. "He's a mess! Makes me want to drive over to my sister the ex-mayor's wife's house and park in her driveway."

Heh, heh! That even got a chuckle out of Hick, who was born without a funny bone. "You SHOULD!"

"Take a picture for me! I'll text it to her. I left my phone in the car. DON'T do your regular picture that's all scenery, with a tiny subject in the middle."

Here's what he took.

Yeah. You might be able to make out tiny T-Hoe, there behind the neighbor dog Copper Jack, with the burn pile and Junker's Row (Formerly Shackytown Boulevard) and the green roof of the homestead way in the background. If you want something done right around here, you have to do it yourself. So I mud-mazed myself back over to T-Hoe, then returned to Gravel Island, to take my own picture.

I sent it to Sis with a note: "Looks like it's time for me to come visit a couple of hours with my car in your driveway." Funny how she did not respond at all.

But look at ME! I've gotten three blog post ideas from a single selfless trip across the field.