I Double Dog Darn Him

Hick has a history of "incidents" when he grills on GassyG Jr. One was just a couple months ago, when he dropped a whole plate of just-BBQed hot dogs on the porch, where I drop treats for the dogs right outside the kitchen door. I mentioned that on my supersecret blog.

Sunday, he grilled some sausages. Three packs. The Pony is home, you know. There were only six in a pack. So to get three meals out of them (plus the roaster pan of carrots, potatoes, onions I'd made), we would need all of them, at two per person. We don't eat like dainty hummingbirds around here.

I was slicing pickles, onions, and tomatoes to add to our bunned sausages when the kitchen door opened. Hick came in, saying,

"That dog is QUICK!"

"What do you mean?"

"Jack. Your dog. I dropped a sausage. Before I could grab if off the porch, he'd ATE IT!"

"WHAT? We need all the sausages! Now we have one less. That means YOU will only get ONE sausage on the third night!"

Hick looked at me like I was crazy. Seriously. Did he think I would go without a sausage because of his carelessness? I didn't drop a vital sausage! The Pony didn't drop a vital sausage! Why should the dropper get his regular allotment of sausages, when HE is the one who caused the sausage shortage? Besides, it's not like he'd go hungry. He can supplement his single sausage with some of the bacon that I cooked on top of the roasted vegetables.

But that's not the only reason I'm DARNing Hick.

I was on the short couch, and Hick in the La-Z-Boy (eating two sausages) when he said,

"I hope that's not another tick."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Last night I found a tick on my leg."

"Great. Now I'M going to get them. They love me. Because I'm so sweet. You've probably infested the La-Z-Boy with them, and I sat in it this morning."

"Oh, Val. You're crazy. There's no ticks in the chair."

The Pony went off to his bath, and I gathered my supper to descend to my lair. Once I set down my tray, I paid a visit to the NASCAR bathroom next to my office. Gosh! That sure did itch! I scratched the bend of my right knee. What WAS that? Something made a little pop as I scratched. I looked at my fingernail, and saw a small tick! I hope his head didn't stay inside my flesh as I ripped his body loose!

I flushed the tick. Washed my hands. Went to the bottom of the steps to call up to Hick.

"I hope you're happy now! I just got a tick off the back of my knee. It was already stuck."

"That's not from the chair! That must have come from the bed."

WHAT? Now I have to worry about getting ticks in BED? If only The Pony didn't use all the hot water every night in the big triangle tub, then Hick could take a nightly shower if he's been out in the yard/field.

Speaking of The Pony... he came down to watch TV with me later. I told him about the tick.

"Well, it doesn't surprise me, because Dad was sitting on the short couch picking off ticks last night. I don't know what he did with them. And you were just sitting on that couch."

DARN, DARN that Hick! I hope he didn't infest my little Jack.