BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

E K is evil. We all know that. Those of you who don’t have any first hand experience in that area will simply have to take my word for it. Trust me, it’s better that way. Save yourselves, escape while you can. Don’t even look back, there’s no hope for me at this point. Really. Just leave me and get out of here before she catches you.

Okay… Now that you are safe I can continue… Seeing as E K is pure, unadulterated evil, as well as a ruthless secret agent who makes Jack Bauer look like a pantywaist, (see: Kay… E Kay…), The Evil One is generally armed for bear whenever she leaves the house.

You know, all the standard lethal force, 007/CTU killing and torturing kind of stuff – stiletto heels with real stilettos, poison lipstick, exploding PDA, miniature rocket launching mascara, electrocuting cell phone, .40 caliber hairbrush, etc… Yeah, the whole nine yards.

Now, since her top secret cover is that of a soccer mom, she drives a heavily armored mini-van that has its own rocket launchers behind the headlights, ejection seats, special cubbyholes for hiding bodies, machine guns in the fender wells, and it can even drive underwater.

Still, my dear and lovely is a hands on kind of killer woman. Something about liking to be up close and personal with her victims before stomping the life out of them. Like I said, she’s evil…and cruel…extremely cruel. I mean, we don’t call her E K for nothing.

At any rate, since she likes the hands on approach, in her soccer mom mobile, she carries a miniature Louisville Slugger. Yeah, exactly… A small, wooden, novelty baseball bat. From what I gather, she uses it to render her victims unconscious before she tapes them to a chair and tortures them. (Yeah, she carries several rolls of duct tape too. Go figure.)

So… The other day we had occasion to do a bit of shopping – grocery shopping, in fact. After all, an active assassin woman like E K has to eat balanced, healthy meals and such, so that she can stay in top form. Well, after we climbed out of the armored urban assault vehicle disguised as a soccer mom mobile, and I was rolling the sliding door shut – I severely wrenched my shoulder from muscling all that armor sideways, btw – I happened to notice her pint sized noggin knocker laying on the floor next to the offspring’s rear seat. Now, I happened to know that this wasn’t the secret hiding place for this particular piece of weaponry, so I pointed at it and asked the munchkin, “What are you doing with that?”

To which she replied, “I think it’s cute.”

Hey, she’s nine. Right now, in her world, just about everything is “cute”, except for the boys at her school and asparagus.

“Well, that’s fine, but it belongs to Mommy,” I told her.

For whatever reason, that idea didn’t sit well with her. As we started across the parking lot, the short person turned to E K and said, “You don’t need a bat, Mommy.”

Since we are trying to keep E Kay’s secret agent status a secret from the offspring right now, but also trying not to make a habit of lying to her, I piped up and said, “Sure she does. She has it for emergencies.”

“Yes I do,” E K agreed, then decided to expand upon the comment with an explanation. Unfortunately, she must have been receiving an urgent encoded message on her microwave transmitter dental work at that same instant that effectively diverted her attention, because what ended up tumbling from her lips was, “I have it in case I need to beat someone off.”

Yeah… Trust me, we were both thinking exactly what you are thinking right now…

And, because I was thinking the same thing you are thinking, I couldn’t help but snicker. Really… I simply couldn’t help myself. And, I was safe from retribution for it because neither could E K. Had we been drinking at the time there would have been a mess to clean up, know what I mean?

Of course, our stifled laughs were definitely preceded by one of those  split second, heart stopping, “Oh shit, that definitely came out wrong” moments. I’m sure the dropped-jaw, wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights expressions we both wore in that instant were utterly priceless. Too bad we didn’t have a camera handy. Fortunately, the unintended euphemism went right over the offspring’s head – literally and figuratively.

I have no idea what Freud would have made of the comment, especially since E K was wearing blue jeans at the time and no slip was involved.  Still, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and a faux pas is just a faux pas. Still, as we entered the store I made the mistake of saying, “That’s definitely blog material.”

E K just sighed and said, “Why is everything blog material?”

“Because it’s funny,” I answered.

I didn’t catch all of her reply, mainly because she seemed to be mumbling to herself. Still, I’m pretty sure I heard something about needing to find a place to hide my body.

More to come…

Murv

There are times when you have to clean out the old brainpan. Get rid of excess words, phrases, clauses, and other ridiculous stuff. It’s a battle writers fight constantly. Generally we do it because if we don’t get the unsaleable crap out of the way, then we can’t put the saleable crap on the paper.

Kinda like freeing up a log jam, so to speak.

So, I’m sure you are probably wondering what qualifies as a writer’s soluble fiber for the brain… The Ex-Lax for the cerebral cortex so to speak…

I have no clue.

All I can say is that when it takes hold, all manner of nonsensical BS  – AKA Brain Sh*t – will spew forth. If you don’t believe me, just read the other entries in this blog… I mean, it isn’t called Brainpan Leakage for nothing, ya’know…

So, anyway, on this particular day in history, my grey matter was cramping a bit, and the next thing you know I had… well… you know… an urgent brain movement.

Not having time to get to the blog, I took advantage of the first receptacle I could find… What follows here are a series of inane, nonsensical, brain sh*t expelling tweets sent forth from my Twitter account this morning, all including their original hashtag – #WTF…

BTW – I received three comments in the wake of this leakage – one person was horribly confused, another enjoyed them immensely, and well, the other commented by simply unfollowing me. Guess I was just a little too intense.

I wasn’t concerned when she pulled the handcuffs from her overnight bag. However, the spatula and pinking shears gave me pause… #WTF

There was only one way out that didn’t involve a body bag. Now, all I needed were some high heels, a spark plug, and a can of peas… #WTF

The stilettos, she had, even if they weren’t my size. It was the spark plug and canned veggies that seemed out of my reach… #WTF

The room smelled like toast, and she looked like prepackaged sex. It was when the pizza arrived that I understood her plan… #WTF

It was thin crust, with double anchovies and extra cheese. The aroma was intoxicating, but somehow I knew it wasn’t meant for me… #WTF

“You’re late!” she screamed. The pizza guy cowered, but it was too late. Now the pinking shears protruded from his chest… #WTF

If only there had been black olives on that pie, then perhaps I could have made my escape. But, the peas were still eluding me… #WTF

My luck held. She grabbed the spatula, then went in search of another victim. “Be right back,” she said, as she exited the room… #WTF

This was my chance. Maybe I could do this without the peas. But wait, what about the shoes? Damn, she was still wearing them… #WTF

I resigned myself to whatever fate had in store. Even if I could get by without the peas, the high heels and spark plug were a must… #WTF

I had just given up when the hotel detective entered the room. “Am I interrupting?” he asked. “Yes, but please do,” I replied… #WTF

It seems they had found her in the lobby, spatula in hand as she served cheesecake to the guests in her own special way… #WTF

“What tipped you off?” I asked, absently rubbing my wrists where the handcuffs had been cinched tight…. #WTF

“She wouldn’t let anyone have seconds,” the hotel detective replied, offering me a cigarette… #WTF

I lit the cig and stared off into space while muttering, “You know, if she’d left the shoes, I’m sure I could’ve escaped.” #WTF

The hotel detective shook his head. “Not likely. They were fuschia.” I looked at him sideways. “Fuschia?” #WTF

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “If they’d been red, maybe. But fuchsia, not a chance.” I nodded my own head in agreement… #WTF

“So, how did this all start?” the hotel detective asked. After correcting my spelling of fuchsia I looked out the window and sighed… #WTF

“Well, you see,” I began. “There was this pair of handcuffs…”  – 30 –  #WTF

More to come…

Murv

Note: If you Twitter you can follow me @mrsellars. Be careful, I might follow back…