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  • Surviving My Vacation…

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    As many of you already know, I recently had the opportunity to take a vacation with my wife and daughter. This was the first vacation The Evil Redhead and I had taken since before the O-spring was born, meaning it had been more than 10 years since our last excursion. However, since the economy hasn’t been the greatest, the land of mouse ears wasn’t in the cards. Instead, we elected to explore nature in southern Missouri and the Ozark Scenic Riverways.

    Of course, since we have these high-maintenance, geriatric, special-needs felines roaming the house this meant we needed someone to keep an eye on them. Enter our good friends Anastasia and Mike. While gone, in order to keep these two brave souls up to date on the progress of our vacation I embarked upon an adventure in text messaging.

    Since many have been asking “how was your vacation?” I thought I’d post a bit of a travelogue in that same sort of format.

    What follows here are not the actual text messages I sent.

    Why?

    Because I couldn’t tell the real story in 160 characters or less.  Of course, if you ask my wife she’ll just call it revisionist history, but then Evil Redheads are like that…

    * * * * * * * * * *

    Day 1: Woke up. Packed van. Drove.  Actually, rode. E K won’t let me drive. Ate fried chicken. Drove (rode) more. Checked into motel. E K immediately declared war on flies (again).

    Night 1: Toured downtown Eminence, Missouri for 3 minutes 27 seconds. Saw everything twice. Asked business hours @ local eatery. Question seemed to confuse hostess who proceeded to vapor lock. Decided it might be better to eat somewhere else. Went next door. Had steak. Returned to motel and went to bed at 8.

    Day 2: Woke up. Drank really bad coffee obtained from nearby gas station after standing in line for 20 minutes to pay for it. Only one person ahead of me but she wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box.  Went to Two Rivers.  Dude in van took us up river and kicked us out at the bridge. Paddled canoe. Ate lunch. Paddled canoe more. Arrived back at Two Rivers.

    Night 2: Ate bratwurst. Played Uno with O-spring and E K. The Evil Redhead cheated. Not sure where she is hiding the cards. Looked at news. Saint Louis reported a full 24 hours without anything evil happening. Attributed the outbreak of goodness and niceness to E K being out of town.

    Night 2 (continued): Went to Bed. An hour later woke up gasping. E K had shut off power to my CPAP and was watching from the doorway. Reconnected power to CPAP and Evil Redhead wandered off, grumbling to herself as she reworked her sinister plan.

    Day 3: Woke up. Drank more bad coffee made with overly-chlorinated tap water. Intestines officially sanitized. Went hiking. E K pushed me down a hill. In order to make her stop grinding her foot on the back of my head I had to remind her that we canceled my life insurance.

    Day 3 (continued): E K not happy that her plan to do me in was thwarted. Made me wash up at the outhouse nearby, then told anyone who asked about my scrapes and bruises that I am clumsy and fell down. Talked me into taking cave tour. Attempted to lose me in caverns, but was unsuccessful due to my clever use of breadcrumbs, glow in the dark twine, and a Coleman electric lantern.

    Day 3 (continued): Once back out in the open I offered a lady park ranger ten bucks and a beer in exchange for Federal Protection from the redhead. Ranger declined, patted me on the head and then high-fived E K. It was then I realized that I was on my own and may not survive the vacation.

    Night 3: Ate grilled chicken, Played Uno again. The Evil Redhead cheated again. Still can’t figure out where she is hiding the cards. Watched rain outside window. Went to bed. Laid awake listening to young couple next door “mucking like finks”.

    Day 4: Woke up. Drove to Alley Springs. E K attempted to lose me on hiking trail. Reminded her that I had her car keys in my pocket. Evil Redhead grumbled quite a bit, then tripped on the trail and blamed me. Visited the Mill at the spring. E K attempted to push me into grain chute but I wouldn’t fit. Redhead grumbled some more. Vacation obviously not going as she had planned.

    Night 4: BBQ’ed a pork tenderloin. Tish’s Hair helped. Fixed some truly amazing brown & wild rice faux risotto. Made note of recipe. Ate supper. Drank beer to stop the voices in my head. Went to bed.

    Day 5: Woke up. Drove to Big Springs. E K still couldn’t lose me on trail so she used her evil powers to make gnats swarm my head. Then she made me buy her ice cream at The Jolly Cone in Van Buren. After finishing ice cream she threatened me with a spork. I promised to be good.

    Night 5: Ate supper. Went to bed. Listened to different crew next door. This time no mucking, but much loud laughing and talking.

    Day 6: Packed van for trip to Arcadia Valley and next to last day of vacation. E K frightened the 3 guys next door who had been loud all night. They apologized profusely and then cowered on the corner of the porch. Not sure if it was the red hair, the bullwhip, or a combination thereof. As soon as she turned her back they jumped into their cars and left.

    Day 6 (continued): Visited Johnson’s Shut Ins. Watched from observation deck while E K and O-spring played on rocks. Didn’t join them as there appeared to be too many places where E K could hide my body.

    Night 6: Checked into Fort Davidson Motel. Visited Fort Davidson across the street. E K attempted to do me in with a civil war cannon, but discovered it was non-functional. Redhead not happy. Ate BBQ at Baylee Jo’s which meant I didn’t have to cook. Yay! Finally vacation time for me! Went to bed early.

    Day 7: Woke up. Ate breakfast at motel restaurant. Yay! More vacation time for me. Wondering if E K has finally resigned herself to keeping me around, or if she has hatched a foolproof plan and I am a dead man walking. Packed van for trip home. Visited Elephant Rocks State Park as a last hurrah. Remained wary of redhead.

    Day 7 (continued): Evil Redhead looking exceptionally hot today in shorts and figure hugging top. Local Mennonite group arrives at park for picnic. I watch with great amusement as a trio of hormonal, adolescent boys from the congregation spy E K climbing around on a large boulder and are instantly transfixed.

    Day 7 (continued): The trio of sexually repressed, pubescent males can’t stop staring and soon proceed to pop tents and snap suspenders. Although I can empathize, I laugh so hard that I almost fall off rock.  Eventually leave park and drive home, taking long, scenic route. Remain wary of redhead during frequent stops at landmarks along the way.

    Night 7: Vacation complete. Saint Louis news reports that hiatus is over and evil has returned to the city.

    And there you have it.

    More to come…

    Murv

  • Mistress Of The Flies…

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    Part 2 of 2 Continued from: Heellllpp Meeee…

    When we left off with that cliffhanger at the end of part 1 – BTW, don’t you just hate it when I do that? Well, don’t expect it to change anytime soon. (Bwuahahahaha!)

    So, anyway, when we left off I had just skulked into the kitchen to investigate a commotion only to find the Evil Redhead decked out in her “torturin’ togs” and talking to a Popsicle stick. If none of that makes sense, go back and read part 1. If it still doesn’t make sense, join the club. I was having trouble wrapping my head around it too…

    Now… Something else I need to fill you in on… During the latter part of June and early portion of July we had this absolutely INSANE problem with flies. They were everywhere. Inside, outside, around the side, in the back, out front, above, below… We just couldn’t figure it out. I mean, we keep the litter boxes clean, we take out the trash regularly, double bag stuff that might be conducive to fly breeding, etc, ad nauseum. There was no rhyme or reason for it. Still, they were everywhere…

    And so, on with the story…

    I drew up next to the imitation-leather-clad redhead who was holding a Popsicle stick, and peered carefully over her shoulder. After all, she seemed to be talking to an inanimate object and I didn’t want to startle her or anything. However, as I mentioned before, the stick wasn’t quite as empty as I had first thought. In point of fact, it had a sopping wet blowfly attached to the end with whatever fixative redheaded bug dominatrixes use for restraining their subs. However, this particular blowfly didn’t seem to be enjoying its encounter in the least… its hairy little legs were kicking and its wings were flexing as it tried in vain to escape the clutches of my evil wife.

    “I’m going to ask you one more time,” E K demanded, her attention focused on the struggling insect. “Where are all of you little bastards coming from?”

    The fly buzzed something unintelligible, to me at least, as it attempted to work itself free to no avail.

    “The name, rank, and serial number bit isn’t going to fly,” E K mused aloud, then giggled an evil giggle at her own pun. “Remember, you did this to yourself…”

    With that, she turned on the faucet and held the end of the Popsicle stick into the center of the stream of flowing water. After slowly counting to five she twisted the handle and the water stopped running. The fly sputtered and kicked.

    “Ready to talk now, Dick?” E K demanded. “Where is your base of operations? How many of you are there? What are your attack plans? Answer me, dammit!”

    I cleared my throat and asked, “Ummm, honey… Uh… What are you doing?”

    “Enhanced Interrogation,” she replied without breaking attention from the task at hand.

    “You’re waterboarding flies?” I said. “What? Did you call Dick Cheney for pest extermination advice or something?”

    “Hmmph!” she returned. “I called Dick Cheney all right, but not for advice. I told him to shut the hell up.”

    “You’ve been spending too much time on Facebook*.”

    “You set up my page for me as I recall.”

    “Yeah… okay… You’ve got me there.”

    “I’ve always got you.”

    “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

    “I’m always right.”

    “You really don’t have to remind me about that.”

    “Obviously I do.”

    “Yeah… Okay… So back to what you’re doing here… I take it your dislike of the former VP has something to do with why you are calling that fly Dick, and it’s not just some crass reference to male anatomy?”

    “Oh my, aren’t we quick today,” she replied, sarcasm dripping from her words.

    “I try.”

    “Well it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think? Flies are almost as annoying as Dick Cheney. Not quite, but almost. So it just stands to reason.”

    “Yeah… I suppose I can see your point there.”

    “Even so, under the circumstances I think both meanings apply.”

    “Yeah, I had a feeling you might say that.”

    “Talk you little bastard!” she demanded of the waterlogged fly, returning her focus to the interrogation while shaking the Popsicle stick like she was resetting the level on an old mercury thermometer.

    I watched her yelling threats at the insect for a moment then spoke up again. “So, this seems a bit complicated and involved. I mean, if this is about torturing flies, why don’t you just pull their wings off or something? You know, simple stuff like regular sociopaths do…”

    “Because I’m not regular. I’m high octane.”

    “Uh… Yeah.”

    “Besides, I tried that,” she quipped. “They die too quickly and I don’t get any information out of them.”

    “I see…” I nodded and took a few precautionary steps back from her. “So… Just out of curiosity… Mind if I ask why you are so intent on ruthlessly interrogating winged insects all of a sudden?”

    “Because they’ve flown over the line. One of them attacked our daughter last night.”

    “Attacked?”

    “Yes. It kept dive bombing her.”

    “Ahhhh,” I said with a nod yet again. “That would explain why I heard you screaming, “Get away from her, you bitch!‘”

    “Hey, it’s one of my favorite lines from Aliens, and you know it,” she replied. “Besides, it fit the situation and I was channeling my inner Ellen Ripley. If I’d had a flamethrower the damn thing would have been toast, trust me.”

    “I’m sure the folks at 20th Century Fox appreciate your loyalty to the franchise.”

    She turned on the water and shoved the fly into the stream again while saying, “Don’t be sarcastic with me lackey or you’ll be next.”

    “I hate to disappoint you but I’m not really afraid of a Popsicle stick.”

    “You would be if you knew what I was going to do to you with it,” she countered. “But, that doesn’t matter anyway because I also have an 8 foot 2 by 12, an economy size tube of epoxy, and a garden hose.”

    “Oh.”

    “Yeah… I thought that might change your tune.”

    “Okay, so what about the flies? I mean, is this whole interrogation thing actually working?”

    “Of course it is.”

    “So, you know where they are all hiding out?”

    “Absolutely.”

    I pointed to the Popsicle stick in her hand. “Okay… So… Umm… May I ask why you’re still waterboarding that one?”

    “Because it amuses me.”

    “Ahhh… I guess I should have already known that, huh?”

    “Yes, you should have, lackey” she replied. “Just for that, drop and give me twenty.”

    I conceded. “Yes, your evilness.”

    However, before I could drop and give her twenty of whatever it is she wanted – she hadn’t told me what just yet – she whipped around and said, “No. Wait.” Then she handed me the dripping Popsicle stick, and added, “Here. Hold this.”

    No sooner had I taken the fly adorned strip of wood from her than she quickly stalked out of the room without another word, and left the twenty still unnamed.

    “Excuse me… ummm… your evilness,” I called after her. “Mind if I ask where you’re going?”

    She poked her head back through the doorway and replied, “It’s time for operation NO PEST STOMP.”

    The next time I saw the redhead she was in the back yard scooping clouds of buzzing Phaenicia Sericata into a butterfly net, then tossing it on the ground and doing a frantic flamenco dance on top of it. (And believe it or not, I didn’t even fabricate that particular part of this tale… She really did… And then to top it off she showed no remorse. In fact, she complained about getting fly guts on her shoes. Given PETA’s reaction to the President swatting a single fly I figure we’ll be hearing from them soon…)

    But, in the end I guess I can’t complain too much. The fly problem seems to be under control these days, we’ve officially renamed the kitchen “Katmo”, and then there’s that nifty Sci-Fi movie power loader suit thing we have standing in the driveway.

    Of course, something tells me Dick Cheney just isn’t going to shut the hell up no matter how many Facebook groups demand it, and that scares me a little. You see, I have to live under the same roof with E K, and if Dick keeps running off at the mouth and annoying her, she just might end up needing another surrogate to torture since we are now out of flies… What do you want to bet that surrogate will be yours truly?

    And you know, I just checked… She still has that giant tube of epoxy…

    More to come…

    Murv

    * Facebook Fan Page: “Telling Dick Cheney To Shut The Hell Up”