Because I don't want to violate the Truth in Blogging Law, let the record show that Hick's doppelganger may or may not have looked like him. I was sitting in the shotgun seat of A-Cad, and didn't turn around. From everything else I heard and saw, Doppelganger Hick was a carbon copy of him. We'll get to that in a moment...
Also for disclosure, wheeling, in this case, means we were on the road to elsewhere, and stopped by this house as Hick's afterthought (that he had pre-planned but hadn't told me). And dealing means that Hick's purpose was to make a profit for his Storage Unit Store merchandise.
Okay, now that legalities are out of the way, we can proceed. On the way home from the casino on Thursday, Hick stopped by a stranger's house to show him a gun.
If I retained enough information after my eyes glazed over, this was a Savage .22 /.410. I asked Hick to be sure.
"Wait a minute! How can it be both? It's either a .22, or a .410."
"No..." Hick said, as if I was simple. "It has two barrels. The top one shoots a .22 bullet, and the bottom one shoots a .410 shotgun shell. Sometimes it's called an over-and-under. They have two triggers, but this one has one trigger, and a switch."
"I don't think you should stop by some guy's house with a gun."
"Val. He's an old man. His kids saw my gun up at my Store, and called their dad. He was out brush hogging the field. They sent him a bunch of pictures. He's been looking for one of these guns forever, to replace one that he had with a bent barrel. He couldn't find one anywhere. He said he'd like to look at it, and maybe buy it."
Hick called Doppelganger Hick from the parking lot of a Love's Truckstop. The directions were: go past the church on the right. It's the next driveway after the log cabin on the left.
When we pulled in, I felt like I was in an opposite Bizarro World. Meaning that I was in a world JUST LIKE I LIVE IN WITH HICK!
There was a house with several outbuildings. One of them had the side covered in yokes. Like Hick collects cast-iron skillets and hangs them, this guy had wooden yokes. By another building, an old wringer washing machine sat, with flowers growing out the top. A homemade roller made from pouring concrete in a pipe was sitting behind a truck.
Doppelganger Hick came out and met Hick at A-Cad's rear. Hick brandished the weapon, and Doppelganger Hick said it was a beauty. He looked for a 24 D on the side, saying that's what the model of his damaged gun was. This one had the 24, but not the letter D with it.
"I'd like to shoot it if you don't mind. I put two bullets in my pocket."
"Okay. You go right ahead."
"Huh."
"Oh. It's a .22 magnum. Not a regular .22. Them's too small."
"I'm just going to shoot up in the air..."
BOOM! [Doppelganger Hick used his shotgun shell in the .410 barrel.]
"That's a nice solid gun."
"Yeah. It's a nice one. It's only the second one I've found in the past three years."
"How much do you want for it?"
"$600.'
"Would you take $550 cash right now?"
"I can't do that, because of what I've got in it."
"Well. It's a nice gun. I wish I could get mine fixed. There used to be a guy around here who did that. Really good work. But he's dead now. I don't know anyone who can fix it."
"Yeah, that's hard to find these days, somebody who can fix a barrel the right way."
"Well. I'll go in the house and get some money. I'll leave this with you right here."
"All right. Take your time."
Doppelganger Hick's wife was mowing the front yard on a riding mower. I imagine she was out there to be a witness in case Hick tried anything fishy.
Out came Doppelganger Hick with the money. The deal was made. Hick said he could stay and talk all day, but "...the wife and my son want to get home in time to see their TV show." Which we DID! The Big Brother live eviction.
As we got back on the curvy two-lane blacktop for Hick to sweave us home, I said,
"You know he's sitting on the couch with that gun across his knees, stroking it."
"I knew he'd try to screw me on the price."
"You don't even KNOW him! All he did was try to barter. You'd do the same thing."
"I made $145 on it."
"You'd do a deal for a $10 profit! I don't know why you couldn't come off your price a little. Make him feel like he worked a deal."
"When I know how hard one is to find, I don't feel bad about getting a good price for it. Like our dog-grooming neighbor came up to my Store looking at a gun, and said her husband said they could get it $50 cheaper for a new one. I said, 'Okay. Go ahead.' I knew I could sell it to someone else. I don't back down when people tell me that. Not even people I like, like them neighbors. Let them pay the tax and do the paperwork, IF they can even find one in stock. All the ones I'd looked up were OUT OF STOCK. They can't keep 'em, so many people are wanting them."
"How did that guy's gun get bent?"
"There was a guy breaking into his barn. He ran outside, and realized he didn't have any bullets. So he hit the burglar over the head with his gun."
I cut eyes to The Pony in the back seat, who had the same expression as I did.
"Did it know him out? The burglar?"
"Nah. He ran off."
"It didn't crack his head open?"
"I guess not. The guy's kids showed me pictures of the bent gun. It takes a LOT to bend steel like that. I'm not so sure he hit the guy in the head. That should have knocked him out. Maybe he came down on the shoulder. That could bend a gun, and let the robber run away."
Just another day with Hick. I wonder if Doppelganger Hick's wife got a good blog story out of our visit...
Monday, September 7, 2020
Sunday, September 6, 2020
The Casino Pie-Purse Chicken Caper
Hick swove us to the casino on Thursday. Nobody emerged a real winner except for The Master Sweaver himself, coming out $40 ahead. Or so he said. He had other adventures planned that day, so spent less time being robbed by the one-armed and no-armed bandits than The Pony and I. Anyhoo... we all had a good enough time, and didn't have to rehome ourselves in the poorhouse.
As usual, the dining experience was as enjoyable as the gambling. Hick told the lady he wanted a slice of the "chocolate pie." This is what he was talking about:
I'm pretty sure that's an Oreo cheesecake, but Hick got what he wanted. I told him not to eat it until I got a picture of it. It was a close call! I was almost too late for his usual burger.
Hick told them to hold the lettuce this time. Look at what they've done to the ketchup! Instead of giving us the foil packets, the ketchup is now in a plastic container. Here's a curious new development. We all ordered the COMBO, and for some reason, The Pony and I got a HUGE amount of fries/tots this time. Hick, not so much. His was the standard basket we're used to.
I went for my new favorite, the Philly Cheesesteak and tater tots. LOOK at all that! I couldn't finish the tots, but by leaving behind half the roll, I wolfed down most of the cheesesteak.
The Pony tried a new item, the Boneless Buffalo Chicken.
He couldn't finish all of either. Hick had a couple pieces of the chicken. Here's a better picture of it.
The Pony said it was a little too spicy for him. Not sure what he was expecting from BUFFALO chicken! Here was the dilemma... should we walk away and waste that chicken? Hick said no.
Before revealing the solution, I must inform you that while we were eating, several people were hanging around the nearby bar. Not drinking, just milling around. Some employees, and a well-dressed lady who seemed to have an official duty. The Old Lady Waitress would come out and hand that gal a basket of food. I noticed that she was setting it on a tray on the bar.
"I guess they're having some function later. Getting a platter of snacks ready, maybe."
Again, here came our Old Lady Waitress, proffering a plate. "Here are the corn dogs."
Of course we started murmuring. "Corn dogs! I didn't see them on the menu. I bet you would have had a corn dog, Pony! Yeah. I love corn dogs!"
The Old Lady Waitress came by our table, and said, "We are starting our FAIR FOODS next week. Since the county can't hold the fair this year, we figured we'd change our menu to offer fair foods. We're getting a picture of them. The corn dogs will be on our menu next week! And we'll have funnel cakes..."
I forget what other delicacies she mentioned. But that will certainly be a drawing point for our patronage! We've been going down there about every two weeks.
Now here is where we enter Hick's World. The Pony gathered up his phone and said he was going to gamble while we finished eating. Hick said he was going to take that leftover chicken. He asked how much room I had in my purse.
"I am NOT going to carry around that basket of buffalo chicken in my purse! I already have a bottle of water in there. No room! I am NOT like my mom! She used to wrap up her pulled pork sandwich to take home in her purse! After eating some of the pork on the dinner rolls. Not me! You can ask for a container."
The Pony agreed that Hick should ask for a foam container. "Look. Those people have one! In a bag, too!"
"Maybe they got their food to go. But at least you know they have the containers, and bags. The worst that can happen is that they tell you no."
"I don't need no container. I've got one right here."
With that, Hick took the used napkins and empty ketchup containers out of the clear plastic box that his "chocolate pie" had come in. Of course that whipped cream smeared around on the sides. But Hick got it empty of his trash, and PUT THE BUFFALO CHICKEN INSIDE. Oh, he wasn't done yet. Hick went to the counter, and asked for a bag. ONLY a bag! He came back to the table, and put his clear plastic pie box full of buffalo chicken into the bag.
"You're going to be carrying that! Not me! It can be your PIE-PURSE."
"I don't mind to carry it around. I'll have that chicken tonight. I'm not leaving it here!"
So there you have it. The Casino Pie-Purse Chicken Caper.
As usual, the dining experience was as enjoyable as the gambling. Hick told the lady he wanted a slice of the "chocolate pie." This is what he was talking about:
I went for my new favorite, the Philly Cheesesteak and tater tots. LOOK at all that! I couldn't finish the tots, but by leaving behind half the roll, I wolfed down most of the cheesesteak.
The Pony tried a new item, the Boneless Buffalo Chicken.
Before revealing the solution, I must inform you that while we were eating, several people were hanging around the nearby bar. Not drinking, just milling around. Some employees, and a well-dressed lady who seemed to have an official duty. The Old Lady Waitress would come out and hand that gal a basket of food. I noticed that she was setting it on a tray on the bar.
"I guess they're having some function later. Getting a platter of snacks ready, maybe."
Again, here came our Old Lady Waitress, proffering a plate. "Here are the corn dogs."
Of course we started murmuring. "Corn dogs! I didn't see them on the menu. I bet you would have had a corn dog, Pony! Yeah. I love corn dogs!"
The Old Lady Waitress came by our table, and said, "We are starting our FAIR FOODS next week. Since the county can't hold the fair this year, we figured we'd change our menu to offer fair foods. We're getting a picture of them. The corn dogs will be on our menu next week! And we'll have funnel cakes..."
I forget what other delicacies she mentioned. But that will certainly be a drawing point for our patronage! We've been going down there about every two weeks.
Now here is where we enter Hick's World. The Pony gathered up his phone and said he was going to gamble while we finished eating. Hick said he was going to take that leftover chicken. He asked how much room I had in my purse.
"I am NOT going to carry around that basket of buffalo chicken in my purse! I already have a bottle of water in there. No room! I am NOT like my mom! She used to wrap up her pulled pork sandwich to take home in her purse! After eating some of the pork on the dinner rolls. Not me! You can ask for a container."
The Pony agreed that Hick should ask for a foam container. "Look. Those people have one! In a bag, too!"
"Maybe they got their food to go. But at least you know they have the containers, and bags. The worst that can happen is that they tell you no."
"I don't need no container. I've got one right here."
With that, Hick took the used napkins and empty ketchup containers out of the clear plastic box that his "chocolate pie" had come in. Of course that whipped cream smeared around on the sides. But Hick got it empty of his trash, and PUT THE BUFFALO CHICKEN INSIDE. Oh, he wasn't done yet. Hick went to the counter, and asked for a bag. ONLY a bag! He came back to the table, and put his clear plastic pie box full of buffalo chicken into the bag.
"You're going to be carrying that! Not me! It can be your PIE-PURSE."
"I don't mind to carry it around. I'll have that chicken tonight. I'm not leaving it here!"
So there you have it. The Casino Pie-Purse Chicken Caper.
Saturday, September 5, 2020
In For a PENNY, In For Astound
Val's fantastic penny voyage has dropped anchor. After weeks of free sailing, the S.S. Pennyillionaire has become becalmed. No worries, though! Even Steven, Val's captain, has taken a different tack. But I'm getting ahead of myself...
On MONDAY, August 31, I braved a typhoon to obtain my 44 oz Diet Coke and scratchers. Good thing I'm not sweet enough to melt! I stopped by the Backroads Casey's, looking for the new scratchers. It was MO MONEY MONDAY, by cracky! The last Monday of the month, when new tickets come out.
Sadly, Casey's did not have them in their case yet. So I told the clerk never mind, I'd be back tomorrow. As if he cared, heh, heh.
Back outside, I saw the reason I'd been drawn there in the middle of a typhoon, when sensible men and beasts sat home in their dry houses and barns, with their monkey-sock orange-toed feet and metal-shod hooves propped up on their recliner and hay bale, sipping hot chocolate and well water, riding out the storm. The parking lot was empty, except for T-Hoe. And lying where a car would have been parked, was A PENNY!
Waiting just for ME, of course! Nobody else was getting out in that mess, and especially standing in the (at least slacked-off) downpour to take a picture! TWO pictures!
It was a face-down 2019, as clean as last week's was dirty!
That's only 1 PENNY for 1 CENT this week. But don't you worry about ol' Val. She was happy as Hick in a junk store to get that penny. And was rewarded in a non-coin, more ASTOUNDING way...
__________________________________________________________________
2020 RUNNING TOTAL
Penny #106.
Dime still at 15.
Nickel still at 9.
Quarter still at 1.
2019 TOTALS
Penny 134
Dime 20
Nickel 8
Quarter 5
__________________________________________________________________
WEDNESDAY, September 2, I bought my old favorite, the $30 Golden Ticket, at the Gas Station Chicken Store. I'd gotten a $100 winner on it a few days before, over at Country Mart's right side ticket machine, so I was hooked again.
The Gas Station Chicken Store also gave me a $100 winner. Good for me!
We were out of town on Thursday, so I couldn't do any scratchin'! But on FRIDAY, September 4, I was right back at the Gas Station Chicken Store to trade that in for another Golden Ticket. There are 20 tickets on a roll of those, and there's always a $100 winner. A 1-in-20 chance is pretty good if I have the bankroll to play it.
The Lady Owner waited on me. I asked if she could check the number on the next Golden Ticket. No use buying from the same roll if I already have the hundo! She said it was 017. My winner had been 015. No thanks! I'll wait for the next new roll.
However... I'd come in with plans to buy a $30 ticket. So I chose the $7,000,000 Mega Money Ticket. I'm glad I did.
Isn't he beautiful? Especially when you see that little winner hiding out in the last row.
It's a $500 WINNER! I'm sure glad the Gas Station Chicken Store was not into a new roll of Golden Tickets! Thanks, Even Steven! That's the cardboard equivalent of 50,000 PENNIES!
On MONDAY, August 31, I braved a typhoon to obtain my 44 oz Diet Coke and scratchers. Good thing I'm not sweet enough to melt! I stopped by the Backroads Casey's, looking for the new scratchers. It was MO MONEY MONDAY, by cracky! The last Monday of the month, when new tickets come out.
Sadly, Casey's did not have them in their case yet. So I told the clerk never mind, I'd be back tomorrow. As if he cared, heh, heh.
Back outside, I saw the reason I'd been drawn there in the middle of a typhoon, when sensible men and beasts sat home in their dry houses and barns, with their monkey-sock orange-toed feet and metal-shod hooves propped up on their recliner and hay bale, sipping hot chocolate and well water, riding out the storm. The parking lot was empty, except for T-Hoe. And lying where a car would have been parked, was A PENNY!
Waiting just for ME, of course! Nobody else was getting out in that mess, and especially standing in the (at least slacked-off) downpour to take a picture! TWO pictures!
It was a face-down 2019, as clean as last week's was dirty!
That's only 1 PENNY for 1 CENT this week. But don't you worry about ol' Val. She was happy as Hick in a junk store to get that penny. And was rewarded in a non-coin, more ASTOUNDING way...
__________________________________________________________________
2020 RUNNING TOTAL
Penny #106.
Dime still at 15.
Nickel still at 9.
Quarter still at 1.
2019 TOTALS
Penny 134
Dime 20
Nickel 8
Quarter 5
__________________________________________________________________
WEDNESDAY, September 2, I bought my old favorite, the $30 Golden Ticket, at the Gas Station Chicken Store. I'd gotten a $100 winner on it a few days before, over at Country Mart's right side ticket machine, so I was hooked again.
The Gas Station Chicken Store also gave me a $100 winner. Good for me!
We were out of town on Thursday, so I couldn't do any scratchin'! But on FRIDAY, September 4, I was right back at the Gas Station Chicken Store to trade that in for another Golden Ticket. There are 20 tickets on a roll of those, and there's always a $100 winner. A 1-in-20 chance is pretty good if I have the bankroll to play it.
The Lady Owner waited on me. I asked if she could check the number on the next Golden Ticket. No use buying from the same roll if I already have the hundo! She said it was 017. My winner had been 015. No thanks! I'll wait for the next new roll.
However... I'd come in with plans to buy a $30 ticket. So I chose the $7,000,000 Mega Money Ticket. I'm glad I did.
Isn't he beautiful? Especially when you see that little winner hiding out in the last row.
It's a $500 WINNER! I'm sure glad the Gas Station Chicken Store was not into a new roll of Golden Tickets! Thanks, Even Steven! That's the cardboard equivalent of 50,000 PENNIES!
Friday, September 4, 2020
Too Many Non-Cooks Spoil the Sloth
Get ready for a rant! I've been holding it in for a while now. About six months... My blood is near to boiling! There are too darn many people in this pressure cooker!
Let the record show that Val is not known for whipping up sumptuous feasts for her menfolk every night. Some might even term her meal performance as slothful. Darn those who would do that! I'd shake my palsied fist at them if it didn't take so much energy.
Anyhoo... Wednesday night, Hick and The Pony were having leftovers for supper. I'd made them elbow macaroni with red sauce two nights before. Plenty of it. Because it saves energy if I can stretch it to three meals. They each had an opaque quart container that once held takeout Hot & Sour Soup. The Pony had just noodles and sauce, while Hick had the noodles and sauce with hamburger and mushrooms added.
The Pony was almost done. He'd handed me his empty container, which I wiped out and filled with water and Dawn dishwashing liquid, and set beside the sink until they were done eating, at which time I'd wash up the dishes.
The Pony had taken some rolls out of the oven, and was microwaving his bowl of noodles. I had The Pony under control. He's pretty manageable if you tell him step by step what to do.
I also was getting ready to take a picture of The Pony's zip-lock baggie faux pas from yesterday, and readying a couple of frozen chimichangas that I would be having for my supper. The HICK appeared at the kitchen door, home from looking at some acreage with Back Creek Neighbor Nick.
"Go ahead and get yours ready. The rolls just came out, and they're hot. I want to get your dishes ready to wash."
Hick immediately set his stuff on the open section of counter where I was going to take my picture of the baggie box.
"No, I'm working here. Don't take up my space and get greasy stuff on the counter. I just cleaned that off. You always want to use the space I have set aside for something else."
Hick huffed and turned to use the cutting block.
Seriously. I'd handed him a bowl. All he had to do was scoop out noodles and sauce and set it in the microwave. It didn't need to be done IN MY SPACE.
After their feast, The Pony took his bowl to the kitchen. I heard him as he tore a paper towel to wipe it out, and set it in the sink with water and his utensils.
When I returned to the kitchen, bringing Hick's dirty dishes rather than waiting until he was good and ready to haul them in, I saw a horrific sight! There was an opaque container coated with sauce and particles of hamburger and mushrooms, sitting in the sink 3/4 full of water! Cold water! Aww NOT-HEAVEN, NO!
Hick has been lectured 10,000 hours and 10,000 more over these past 30 years, not to do that cold grease thing with the dishes. He swore he didn't put it in there. Denial is one thing. But then Hick went TOO FAR!
"I handed my container to you, and you ran water in it."
WHYYYYYYYY? Even Nancy Kerrigan knows that I would never, EVER do such a thing! Especially after lecturing Hick on this very topic for our entire marriage, and having wiped out The Pony's container and added Dawn to it, a mere 10 minutes before!
I know Hick did it!
But here's the most egregious incident of the evening. A LID IS MISSING! How can I have two containers with two lids, but 10 minutes later, I have two containers and ONE lid? It's not that I'm upset about losing a part of my Hillbilly Tupperware. I'm upset about something disappearing into thin air!
I noticed the discrepancy as I was finishing the dishes. I searched everywhere. The sink, the counter, the cutting block, the floor, the stools under the cutting block, the paper plate area at the other end of the counter, inside FRIG II, inside the bread cabinet, elbow deep in the trash... THAT LID WAS GONE!
I'm pretty sure Hick lost it. As The Pony verified, I'd laid his lid on the counter by the sink as I was wiping out his container. Yet Hick swears that he handed to me, and that I filled it with cold water, no soap, with mushrooms and hamburger and sauce clinging to the sides. Not bloody likely!
I know I don't spend one more iota of time cooking meals than I can get away with. But this disappearing lid conspiracy has set me off! I'm spoiling for a fight! I mean... I'm looking forward to a calm discussion until I get a confession, or that lid reappears. This is too much work for a sloth like me.
Let the record show that Val is not known for whipping up sumptuous feasts for her menfolk every night. Some might even term her meal performance as slothful. Darn those who would do that! I'd shake my palsied fist at them if it didn't take so much energy.
Anyhoo... Wednesday night, Hick and The Pony were having leftovers for supper. I'd made them elbow macaroni with red sauce two nights before. Plenty of it. Because it saves energy if I can stretch it to three meals. They each had an opaque quart container that once held takeout Hot & Sour Soup. The Pony had just noodles and sauce, while Hick had the noodles and sauce with hamburger and mushrooms added.
The Pony was almost done. He'd handed me his empty container, which I wiped out and filled with water and Dawn dishwashing liquid, and set beside the sink until they were done eating, at which time I'd wash up the dishes.
The Pony had taken some rolls out of the oven, and was microwaving his bowl of noodles. I had The Pony under control. He's pretty manageable if you tell him step by step what to do.
I also was getting ready to take a picture of The Pony's zip-lock baggie faux pas from yesterday, and readying a couple of frozen chimichangas that I would be having for my supper. The HICK appeared at the kitchen door, home from looking at some acreage with Back Creek Neighbor Nick.
"Go ahead and get yours ready. The rolls just came out, and they're hot. I want to get your dishes ready to wash."
Hick immediately set his stuff on the open section of counter where I was going to take my picture of the baggie box.
"No, I'm working here. Don't take up my space and get greasy stuff on the counter. I just cleaned that off. You always want to use the space I have set aside for something else."
Hick huffed and turned to use the cutting block.
Seriously. I'd handed him a bowl. All he had to do was scoop out noodles and sauce and set it in the microwave. It didn't need to be done IN MY SPACE.
After their feast, The Pony took his bowl to the kitchen. I heard him as he tore a paper towel to wipe it out, and set it in the sink with water and his utensils.
When I returned to the kitchen, bringing Hick's dirty dishes rather than waiting until he was good and ready to haul them in, I saw a horrific sight! There was an opaque container coated with sauce and particles of hamburger and mushrooms, sitting in the sink 3/4 full of water! Cold water! Aww NOT-HEAVEN, NO!
Hick has been lectured 10,000 hours and 10,000 more over these past 30 years, not to do that cold grease thing with the dishes. He swore he didn't put it in there. Denial is one thing. But then Hick went TOO FAR!
"I handed my container to you, and you ran water in it."
WHYYYYYYYY? Even Nancy Kerrigan knows that I would never, EVER do such a thing! Especially after lecturing Hick on this very topic for our entire marriage, and having wiped out The Pony's container and added Dawn to it, a mere 10 minutes before!
I know Hick did it!
But here's the most egregious incident of the evening. A LID IS MISSING! How can I have two containers with two lids, but 10 minutes later, I have two containers and ONE lid? It's not that I'm upset about losing a part of my Hillbilly Tupperware. I'm upset about something disappearing into thin air!
I noticed the discrepancy as I was finishing the dishes. I searched everywhere. The sink, the counter, the cutting block, the floor, the stools under the cutting block, the paper plate area at the other end of the counter, inside FRIG II, inside the bread cabinet, elbow deep in the trash... THAT LID WAS GONE!
I'm pretty sure Hick lost it. As The Pony verified, I'd laid his lid on the counter by the sink as I was wiping out his container. Yet Hick swears that he handed to me, and that I filled it with cold water, no soap, with mushrooms and hamburger and sauce clinging to the sides. Not bloody likely!
I know I don't spend one more iota of time cooking meals than I can get away with. But this disappearing lid conspiracy has set me off! I'm spoiling for a fight! I mean... I'm looking forward to a calm discussion until I get a confession, or that lid reappears. This is too much work for a sloth like me.
Thursday, September 3, 2020
What Kind of Psychopath Does THIS?
I'll tell you what kind! A college graduate psychopath!
Anyhoo... to start at the beginning (which you probably know by now that I hate), somebody used the last zip-lock baggie a couple weeks ago (HICK!). I discovered the empty box, and asked The Pony to hand me a new box from the large pantry if I had a spare.
The Pony said, "Oh! I have some that we moved back from my apartment. They're already open, so I'll just get them."
I went on about my business, which was tearing off some non-stick foil. I wasn't in need of a zip-lock baggie just then, but I'd bobbled the empty box while getting out my foil.
You know how you buy a box of zip-lock baggies for leftovers or sandwiches, and keep them in the lower corner cabinet by the sink that has the two-tiered lazy Susan shelves? I'm pretty sure you are like most normal people, and punch in the perforated section on the side that lets you pull out the zip-lock baggies one at a time, as needed. That perforated part can even be tucked back in on itself, in case you're worried about the baggies staying in place and not falling out.
Well. A couple days ago, I opened up the cabinet to get a zip-lock baggie to hold a slice of bread without it getting stale until I was ready for it with lunch in my lair. The sight I beheld was disturbing!
Not only was the perforation still intact on an OPEN box of zip-lock baggies...
But the manner in which the box had been opened was absolutely psychopathic!
The end flaps had been ripped all willy-nilly, leaving the box uncloseable.
THAT is how The Pony opens his box of zip-lock baggies!
If you stop by our house (keep your hands off our mail, ya filthy animal!) to put your leftover sandwich in a zip-lock baggie, make sure you hold it with the open end UP as you take it out from the lower corner cabinet with the two-tiered lazy Susan by the sink.
Anyhoo... to start at the beginning (which you probably know by now that I hate), somebody used the last zip-lock baggie a couple weeks ago (HICK!). I discovered the empty box, and asked The Pony to hand me a new box from the large pantry if I had a spare.
The Pony said, "Oh! I have some that we moved back from my apartment. They're already open, so I'll just get them."
I went on about my business, which was tearing off some non-stick foil. I wasn't in need of a zip-lock baggie just then, but I'd bobbled the empty box while getting out my foil.
You know how you buy a box of zip-lock baggies for leftovers or sandwiches, and keep them in the lower corner cabinet by the sink that has the two-tiered lazy Susan shelves? I'm pretty sure you are like most normal people, and punch in the perforated section on the side that lets you pull out the zip-lock baggies one at a time, as needed. That perforated part can even be tucked back in on itself, in case you're worried about the baggies staying in place and not falling out.
Well. A couple days ago, I opened up the cabinet to get a zip-lock baggie to hold a slice of bread without it getting stale until I was ready for it with lunch in my lair. The sight I beheld was disturbing!
But the manner in which the box had been opened was absolutely psychopathic!
If you stop by our house (keep your hands off our mail, ya filthy animal!) to put your leftover sandwich in a zip-lock baggie, make sure you hold it with the open end UP as you take it out from the lower corner cabinet with the two-tiered lazy Susan by the sink.
Wednesday, September 2, 2020
We Might Be Off Our Rockers
More creepy shenanigans last week!
I've grown complacent with The Pony back home. When I hear walking, I assume that it's The Pony. He's a night owl like me. The footsteps, which used to be pacing in Genius's room, now occur overhead in The Pony's room.
"Were you up last night? Around 3:45? About 4:00? To go in the bathroom?"
"No. I didn't get up until after 6:00. I went to bed and stayed there, when I went upstairs from here around 12:30."
"Huh. I heard you! I heard your door creak open, and footsteps. No flushing, though."
"It wasn't me. But I've heard something in my room."
"Walking?"
"No. Just standing."
"HOW CAN YOU HEAR SOMETHING STANDING IN YOUR ROOM?"
"I have my head at the end of my bed by the door. So I couldn't see it, because it was behind my head. But I heard it. The floor creaking. Like something standing in one place, and rocking on its heels."
"YIKES! You didn't get up and turn on the light? Or just turn to look?"
"No. Didn't wanna know."
"I also heard something another night in the bathroom. No walking. Something fell. Hit the floor. Too heavy for a toothbrush. Not as heavy as a bar of soap in the tub. More like a stick of deodorant. An almost-empty stick of deodorant."
"I haven't found anything on the floor... but down here? When I came down the other night, around 9:30 to watch TV with you? That chair was moving by itself again! I didn't hit it. Just like last time when it did that. It started rocking on its own."
Something is wanting attention again!
I've grown complacent with The Pony back home. When I hear walking, I assume that it's The Pony. He's a night owl like me. The footsteps, which used to be pacing in Genius's room, now occur overhead in The Pony's room.
"Were you up last night? Around 3:45? About 4:00? To go in the bathroom?"
"No. I didn't get up until after 6:00. I went to bed and stayed there, when I went upstairs from here around 12:30."
"Huh. I heard you! I heard your door creak open, and footsteps. No flushing, though."
"It wasn't me. But I've heard something in my room."
"Walking?"
"No. Just standing."
"HOW CAN YOU HEAR SOMETHING STANDING IN YOUR ROOM?"
"I have my head at the end of my bed by the door. So I couldn't see it, because it was behind my head. But I heard it. The floor creaking. Like something standing in one place, and rocking on its heels."
"YIKES! You didn't get up and turn on the light? Or just turn to look?"
"No. Didn't wanna know."
"I also heard something another night in the bathroom. No walking. Something fell. Hit the floor. Too heavy for a toothbrush. Not as heavy as a bar of soap in the tub. More like a stick of deodorant. An almost-empty stick of deodorant."
"I haven't found anything on the floor... but down here? When I came down the other night, around 9:30 to watch TV with you? That chair was moving by itself again! I didn't hit it. Just like last time when it did that. It started rocking on its own."
Something is wanting attention again!
Tuesday, September 1, 2020
It Takes An Enclave to Raise a Mild Alarm
You may recall that we've had a mail theft problem around here lately. And also a home theft problem over on the other road in our enclave.
The people who had surveillance video of a thief in their house saw another robber outside last week! It might have been the SAME robber. I don't remember if I told you about it, but the lady looked out her window, and saw a guy standing in her back yard. I hope he wasn't standing there all creepy like Michael Myers in the original Halloween! Anyhoo... she turned on her yard light, and he crept away into the woods. They called the sheriff. I don't think they found a vehicle that night. Or the would-be robber.
Anyhoo... THIS week, Monday to be exact, a resident going out the back entrance put an alert on our enclave's Facebook page around 11:30 a.m.
"I just saw a woman parked at the mailboxes over at Back Entrance. She's in a black SUV. When I went by, she ducked her head and held her hand over her face while I was trying to get a good look at her. If you're expecting a package, you might want to go sit over there and wait for the mailman."
Then another resident said, "I was coming down Hick and Buddy's Badly Blacktopped Hill, and when I got to the bottom, that lady was coming across the road from the Back Entrance. I waited for her to go by, but she stopped, and waved me out ahead of her. I don't know where she went from there."
Let the record show that this gravel road goes from the Back Entrance to our own entrance where our mailboxes are. About two miles from one blacktop road to another. People use it as a shortcut a lot. We live on an offshoot dead-end gravel road where Hick and Buddy did their handiwork on the hill.
Anyhoo... then another resident said, "I just want you to know that we have a house for sale [on our offshoot road] and it could possibly be somebody interested in seeing it, waiting for a realtor."
Good to know. But I don't think somebody waiting for a realtor would be hiding her face. Nor switching from sitting at one entrance to the other entrance two miles away. Both of which coincidentally have rows of mailboxes, which receive keys to the lockboxes for package deliveries.
I wish that guy had taken a picture of her license plate.
The people who had surveillance video of a thief in their house saw another robber outside last week! It might have been the SAME robber. I don't remember if I told you about it, but the lady looked out her window, and saw a guy standing in her back yard. I hope he wasn't standing there all creepy like Michael Myers in the original Halloween! Anyhoo... she turned on her yard light, and he crept away into the woods. They called the sheriff. I don't think they found a vehicle that night. Or the would-be robber.
Anyhoo... THIS week, Monday to be exact, a resident going out the back entrance put an alert on our enclave's Facebook page around 11:30 a.m.
"I just saw a woman parked at the mailboxes over at Back Entrance. She's in a black SUV. When I went by, she ducked her head and held her hand over her face while I was trying to get a good look at her. If you're expecting a package, you might want to go sit over there and wait for the mailman."
Then another resident said, "I was coming down Hick and Buddy's Badly Blacktopped Hill, and when I got to the bottom, that lady was coming across the road from the Back Entrance. I waited for her to go by, but she stopped, and waved me out ahead of her. I don't know where she went from there."
Let the record show that this gravel road goes from the Back Entrance to our own entrance where our mailboxes are. About two miles from one blacktop road to another. People use it as a shortcut a lot. We live on an offshoot dead-end gravel road where Hick and Buddy did their handiwork on the hill.
Anyhoo... then another resident said, "I just want you to know that we have a house for sale [on our offshoot road] and it could possibly be somebody interested in seeing it, waiting for a realtor."
Good to know. But I don't think somebody waiting for a realtor would be hiding her face. Nor switching from sitting at one entrance to the other entrance two miles away. Both of which coincidentally have rows of mailboxes, which receive keys to the lockboxes for package deliveries.
I wish that guy had taken a picture of her license plate.
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