This week's Tuesday Morning's Scribute to 10am:
(This Pip did. Aw, mannn.)
Three Blind-Drunk Mice
This is research I would gladly fund.
And, I'd bring them a nice cheese plate to go with it.
And finally, Happy November everyone!
Ok, so I'm several days late to wish you that.
But I've been a wee busy, aiiight?
But never too busy for you. Awwwww.
I knew you'd understand.
Hope you made it through the Halloweeners.
This year, I actually enjoyed it.
This year, I didn't get the usual suspects,
the 16 year-olds about 5' 9", sporting
napped-in t-shirts and droopy-drawers,
lazily holding out crumpled pillowcases
and with little or no effort,
booming a testosteronic "trikk'o'treeeet"
into my living room as they scope the joint
for anything plasma.*
If you think I'm being harsh,
not me. I have witnesses.
In my book, unless there is
an overactive pituitary gland involved,
trick'o'treaters should not be taller
than the adults handing out the treats.
I'm just sayin'.
*Oh, and looking in my joint for plasma?
Boy! You and me both, kid!
So deepest apologies, and here,
have two fun-sized Snickers instead.
No.
This year,
I got actual trick'o'treaters.
Babies dressed as tigers,
and Hello Kitties,
and ninjas, and
the scariest creature of them all,
brides!
I got sweet little kids who asked nicely and
didn't violate my candy bowl
faster than a clawed, naked mole rat
could dig tunnels to a blinding sugar-high,
like the very first and very last
"Memphis Halloween" I had
which broke me and my friend
that night of ever again extending a candy bowl
ripe with free, assorted chocolate
to the t-shirted zombie teens.
Never again, we vowed,
with our blushed cheeks and doe eyes.
No. That scared the red wine buzz
out of us both that night
after the second crushing whirlwind
of squealing, fighting albeit younger kids
(eek, did I just say "albeit"?)
ran from us after they beat our door
like it was a police raid/drug-bust operation,
then pillaged our candy buckets,
and ran, leaving us pale,
paler than normal,
with nothing
but a few crushed nougats.
It reminded me of the first and last time
I fed an unappreciative billy goat.
First and last, people!
It was a well-fought struggle,
and even though they gave it a good try,
they did not physically rip the bucket
from my sweaty hands
as they ran away screeching
"mine mine mine!"
down the sidewalk off,
slugging each other into the bushes,
all the way to the next apartment complex.
Heavy on the complex at this point.
"Www-ELL! Turn off the lights
and pull th' blinds, Mable,
we're off duty as of nnn-NOW,"
my first and beloved gay friend
(we'll refer to him as Disney Scott)
ordered me to do
as he lit up a menthol 100
and took a solid, exaggerated,
exasperated drag from it,
resulting in an impressive half-inch ash.
"So much for quitting smoking tonight!
What in the name of God's Fresh HELL was that?!"
It was about this time I'd also wondered
for the second time that week why had I taken
the extra effort involved to move myself
and my sleeper sofa to Memphis, too.
The first time, I was visiting
the local WalMart in West Memphis, Arkansas,
just across the river
from my apartment.
And I drove home too stunned to cry,
thinking only of the stern-looking menfolk
with "shiny-beady catfish eyes"
(as described by my second and beloved gay friend),
wearing sleeveless
down-filled hunting vests as shirts.
I prayed the banjo music I was hearing
was only an autonomic nerve reaction
sparked by the chemicals involved with fear.
And maybe these men weren't so stern,
but it was just the unified eyebrows
that made them look so serious.
Oh, this post just sounds too scary to continue.
I should bring it back to a positive note,
but I am out of coffee,
and you've fallen asleep reading this.
Well, in retrospect, the kids towering over me
without costumes and slugging each other
into parked cars was terrifying,
which I guess is a vital part of Halloween...
Nevermind, on to more important things.
Off to store for more coffee and chocolate milk,
and apparently, I need to take a shower and vote.
Right after Ron tells me
who to vote against instead of vote for.
Ew.
I'm not good at this voting stuff.
It's all too scary.
(This Pip did. Aw, mannn.)
Three Blind-Drunk Mice
This is research I would gladly fund.
And, I'd bring them a nice cheese plate to go with it.
And finally, Happy November everyone!
Ok, so I'm several days late to wish you that.
But I've been a wee busy, aiiight?
But never too busy for you. Awwwww.
I knew you'd understand.
Hope you made it through the Halloweeners.
This year, I actually enjoyed it.
This year, I didn't get the usual suspects,
the 16 year-olds about 5' 9", sporting
napped-in t-shirts and droopy-drawers,
lazily holding out crumpled pillowcases
and with little or no effort,
booming a testosteronic "trikk'o'treeeet"
into my living room as they scope the joint
for anything plasma.*
If you think I'm being harsh,
not me. I have witnesses.
In my book, unless there is
an overactive pituitary gland involved,
trick'o'treaters should not be taller
than the adults handing out the treats.
I'm just sayin'.
*Oh, and looking in my joint for plasma?
Boy! You and me both, kid!
So deepest apologies, and here,
have two fun-sized Snickers instead.
No.
This year,
I got actual trick'o'treaters.
Babies dressed as tigers,
and Hello Kitties,
and ninjas, and
the scariest creature of them all,
brides!
I got sweet little kids who asked nicely and
didn't violate my candy bowl
faster than a clawed, naked mole rat
could dig tunnels to a blinding sugar-high,
like the very first and very last
"Memphis Halloween" I had
which broke me and my friend
that night of ever again extending a candy bowl
ripe with free, assorted chocolate
to the t-shirted zombie teens.
Never again, we vowed,
with our blushed cheeks and doe eyes.
No. That scared the red wine buzz
out of us both that night
after the second crushing whirlwind
of squealing, fighting albeit younger kids
(eek, did I just say "albeit"?)
ran from us after they beat our door
like it was a police raid/drug-bust operation,
then pillaged our candy buckets,
and ran, leaving us pale,
paler than normal,
with nothing
but a few crushed nougats.
It reminded me of the first and last time
I fed an unappreciative billy goat.
First and last, people!
It was a well-fought struggle,
and even though they gave it a good try,
they did not physically rip the bucket
from my sweaty hands
as they ran away screeching
"mine mine mine!"
down the sidewalk off,
slugging each other into the bushes,
all the way to the next apartment complex.
Heavy on the complex at this point.
"Www-ELL! Turn off the lights
and pull th' blinds, Mable,
we're off duty as of nnn-NOW,"
my first and beloved gay friend
(we'll refer to him as Disney Scott)
ordered me to do
as he lit up a menthol 100
and took a solid, exaggerated,
exasperated drag from it,
resulting in an impressive half-inch ash.
"So much for quitting smoking tonight!
What in the name of God's Fresh HELL was that?!"
It was about this time I'd also wondered
for the second time that week why had I taken
the extra effort involved to move myself
and my sleeper sofa to Memphis, too.
The first time, I was visiting
the local WalMart in West Memphis, Arkansas,
just across the river
from my apartment.
And I drove home too stunned to cry,
thinking only of the stern-looking menfolk
with "shiny-beady catfish eyes"
(as described by my second and beloved gay friend),
wearing sleeveless
down-filled hunting vests as shirts.
I prayed the banjo music I was hearing
was only an autonomic nerve reaction
sparked by the chemicals involved with fear.
And maybe these men weren't so stern,
but it was just the unified eyebrows
that made them look so serious.
Oh, this post just sounds too scary to continue.
I should bring it back to a positive note,
but I am out of coffee,
and you've fallen asleep reading this.
Well, in retrospect, the kids towering over me
without costumes and slugging each other
into parked cars was terrifying,
which I guess is a vital part of Halloween...
Nevermind, on to more important things.
Off to store for more coffee and chocolate milk,
and apparently, I need to take a shower and vote.
Right after Ron tells me
who to vote against instead of vote for.
Ew.
I'm not good at this voting stuff.
It's all too scary.
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