Once upon a time, in Genius's youth, he was seeking a cell phone over the internet. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, since we did not buy him his first cell phone until his birthday the year he was in 6th grade. So it must have been in the year or two leading up to this great present that Genius took it upon himself to find bargains that he thought might tempt me into getting him a phone before my master plan schedule.
"Look, Mom! This is such a bargain! And you can use PayPal, too!
"Um. No. You are not getting a cell phone yet. Besides, that one is in China. No way am I buying a cell phone off the internet, and especially not from China."
"Oh. I didn't notice that."
"Look at the shipping details. Besides, my first clue was where it said, 'Having a Hot expensive phone experience with spending ten times less.' And that part about 'Check out more on this Brand new lovely Garget.' Not to mention the seller's Mission: 'Provide the professional sunshine feeling to our customers and turn out to have mutually positive feedback.'"
Yeah. Genius was pretty mad at me for a while over that refusal. Which is neither here nor there today. I simply dug that example out of the vault to explain that today's post is not going to give you a PROFESSIONAL SUNSHINE EXPERIENCE. Sorry.
No rainbow, unicorn, fluffy kitten, or teacup piglet stories to follow. It's downright depressing. The seamy underside of Backroads. Seamier than the headless body found in a septic tank just up the road? No. But seamy, nonetheless.
The Pony and I drove out to my mom's house after she got home from church. The Pony forgot to fix Mom's cell phone while he was there. She somehow got it on vibrate again, and doesn't know how to get it off. The Pony and Genius have both fixed it before. This time, Mom planned to write down the steps on an index card so my sister the ex-mayor's wife can fix it in church if it happens again. Only The Pony could not fix it. AND, when Mom tried to call it from her house phone, it gave a busy signal. Who knows. Maybe a person should upgrade their phone once every ten years or so. This little brick is so old that it's not even a flip phone. But that is neither here nor there. I'm putting off the horror that is about to unfold.
We drove into a maelstrom on the way to Mom's. Rain sluiced down on T-Hoe's windshield like water from...well...a sluice! Winds blew twigs and leaves from the trees. Visibility was nigh nil. But it all petered out (heh, heh, you know what I just said) by the time we left Mom's. And now I am out of delay tactics.
As I pulled out onto the main road from a side street by Mom's church, I saw a boy in the side yard of house that faced the main thoroughfare. He could have been the twin of that Dasher boy in need of a leash who I saw yesterday in Save A Lot. I almost hope he WAS the same kid. I do not like to think that there are more than one of his type in town.
DasherII was not wearing track pants today, but ragtag athletic shorts and a nondescript t-shirt. The kind of clothes Backroads youth sport all summer until they get three new ensembles to start the school year. DasherII stood on the concrete sidewalk in his yard, a half-grown, mostly-white-with-black calico cat crouched between his bare feet. As I turned onto the road, DasherII bent at the waste. He was shaking his finger at the kitty. Then he swatted Kitty on the head!
I found that upsetting. It's not like Kitty had wrenched free from DasherII's arms, perhaps scratching him in the escape attempt, eliciting instant anger from the child. Nope. Kitty was crouched like a little sphinx, chest over toes, minding her own business. I SO wanted to make a right at the next block, and another right, and another...until I came up that side street so I could give DasherII my teacher stinkeye. Perhaps say, "That's no way to treat an animal. Let it go."
I did not do that. You know why? Because I'm a confrontation-avoider, first of all. I'm not one to kidnap a dog in the middle of the night. But also because the cons outweigh the pros.
PRO:
DasherII will see the error of his ways, and never abuse an animal again.
DasherII will run into his house, leaving Kitty to flee.
DasherII will learn a lesson 'bout a-messin' with a kitty in public view.
CON:
DasherII will squeeze Kitty between his feet just to show me who's boss.
DasherII will scream and his momma will come out and threaten to beat my a$$.
DasherII will scream and his daddy will come out and blast me with a shotgun.
DasherII will scream and a neighbor will call the cops to come get Val-the-Molester.
DasherII will scream and Kitty will escape, running right under the tires of T-Hoe.
Maybe I could have honked to distract him. Too late now.
Swatted poor kitty on the head? Shame on him!
ReplyDeleteAll you can do is hope that kitty runs away so it can find a better home. And hopefully it will do it soon.
ReplyDelete(Hey, was that nocturnal dognapper remark a slam directed at me? I'll get you back. I'll tell Randy Grimm you are a goat rescue, and will volunteer to drive all the homeless goats to your property.)
It is hard to bite your tongue when you witness abuse to an animal or a smaller child. That kid is a bully, or could be a serial killer in the making. But ....... you are right about putting yourself in the middle. You could be arrested for trying to correct someone else's child. The same parents who refuse to discipline their offspring seem to have no problem defending said offspring from the likes of you. It is a strange world we live in.
ReplyDeleteI thought the dognapper was in reference to Elaine and the all night yapper.
ReplyDeleteI agree, the cons outweighed the pros.
I thought of Elaine, too. I agree with everyone else. He probably would have been meaner to it after you left. And if, say, you'd wanted to be a catnapper, people like that always seem to find endless supplies of animals to meet their abusing needs.
ReplyDeleteToo late to do anything now, so let it go.
ReplyDeleteNext time you see dasher one or two, get him between your shoes and crush the life out of him, holding your hand firmly clamped over his mouth to stop him screaming.
I am here because I absolutely loved your comment on Write From The Heart. I’m following to see what else you come up with.
Never mind, the cat will scratch him, just getting even.
ReplyDeleteStephen,
ReplyDeleteI suppose he has not yet met Kitty's needle-sharp teeth and hard-to-remove-from-tender-flesh claws.
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Sioux,
That nocturnal dognapper remark was an ode to your "Towanda!" moment when you attempted to liberate a hapless canine from his yard. Even though you didn't succeed, you gave it your best son's-hoodie-husband's-workboots effort. Kudos to you, Madam, for trying.
We are down to two goats, but have plenty of room. Some people swear they are quite tasty. Hick is not averse to making money on them. That Little Barbershop of Horrors isn't going to pay for itself, you know.
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Kathy,
I think maybe that kid is on the lam from your Kampground, and nobody is looking for him.
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joeh,
ACK! I've been out-Seinfelded! And by a dirty-water-cocktail drinker, no less. The shame! I must remain ever-vigilant, lest this happen again.
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Tammy,
I totally forgot about Hit Man Neeewwwman and the yapper. Yes, you're right. All that kid would have to do is sit at my mailbox row for a few days, and somebody will dump out a new target for him.
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Friko,
Oh, dear! That's a lot of pressure. Usually, what I come up with is a last-minute tale of the world conspiring against me, my mom's quest for slaw, the outrageous antics of my husband, or my sons letting the cat out of the bag that I'm not quite as smart as my valedictorian self thinks I am. Oh, and I write run-on sentences and use prepositions to end them with.
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Catalyst,
Even Steven has a way of working things out like that.