Like many men my age, I had some youthful indiscretions as a younger version of myself. Now, I done some things I'm not proud of, and a whole bunch of other things that I am proud of, but have to pretend to be ashamed of when I'm in mixed company. The long and short of it is, from time to time, I've woken up covered in one sorta goo or another so the situation I found myself in wasn't entirely unfamiliar to me. The difference between them times and the one I was currently is was that, in this situation, I didn't remember drinkin nothin, my head didn't feel like a gang of rabid field mice was tryin to get out, and my arms and legs was pinned. That and I was upright. I done a lot of whack stuff in my time, but I ain't never woken up from a night of drinkin while still bein upright. I felt like my brain was all wrapped up in bubble wrap. There was somethin important I had to remember, but I couldn't figure it out for the life of me. I thought to myself, "Ok, Pat, there's somethin goin on here and we're gonna figure out what it is. First, let's see what's happenin with the arms...hmm...nothin. Ok, now, how about the legs? hmmm....little wiggle in the toe, that's promising. How about the head? Yeah, now we're in the mustard, that head's turnin around up there like a champ. How about the eyes? Let's just try openin them eyes. Boy howdy, that worked like a charm. Ok, let's check out and see what there is to peep with these here peepers. Allrighty now, looks like a store room of some kind. Lotsa cheap stuff in boxes. Let's just note that and move on. Allright, to my left, there's Douggy covered in some kind of green goo that's holdin him to the wall. Must be the same stuff as is holdin me. That's one mystery solved. Boy, I'm gettin tired. I also kinda gotta pee. I don't think I should though. If I'd known it was gonna be like this, I likely wouldn'ta drank that fourth cup of coffee. It went right well with that donut, though. Hmmm, donuts. Somethin about donuts...and....gas! That's the ticket! Gas inside the donuts!"
Then it all came upon me in an avalanche. Nearest I could figure, them giant slugs had started belchin out the knockout gas after absorbin the donut. We breathed it in and all passed out. Then, while we were asleep, the slugs connected us to the wall with this slimy goo stuff. Then, they wandered away to do some crazy kind of evil thing involving meth and ninjas and that half lobster guy. Or maybe they went on their coffee break or somethin. Just when I was strainin myself to imagine a bunch of giant slugs standin around a water cooler talkin about whatever the newest slug drama is and I started to wonder how they lean and drink their coffee at the same time, which is required of anything gettin a coffee break, in walks Alistair, just as bright eyes and bushy tailed as you please. He saunters right up to me and says, "Good morning, sunshine. Did you sleep well?"
"Well, all things considered, I think I had myself a lovely nap, thank you," I replied, very courteous. "Would you like to tell me why you're walkin tall and free while Douggy and me is glued to this wall?"
"Normally, as you know, I would," he stated, "but I'm going to let my new friend McGee tell you himself." He turned towards the door and a giant slug came crawlin in with some sorta weird box thingy around his, well, I guess it was a neck. These anatomy words just don't work when you're tryin to talk about slugs. They just ain't built the same as we are. I mean, I can talk about their stalks, but everything below that is just kind of like a tube. And it's not like I can say somethin like, "there was a box around the part where just after where he started to get a little more narrow but he's not quite narrow all the way. No no, not that end, the other side, closer to his stalks." That'd make a long-winded story that didn't really seem to go nowhere, and that's just not in my nature to be like that. So, I'm just gonna talk like they had all the normal sortsa people parts, even though we both know they don't.
So, like I says, this giant slug came in with this crazy box thing around his neck but he didn't say nothin, he just stood there starin at me and twitchin. It was just startin to creep me out when Alistair jumped up and said, "Whoops, forgot to turn it on!" Then he flipped a switch on the box and said to the slug, "Would you repeat that McGee?"
Well, I'll be darned all to Wisconsin if that slug didn't start twichin again, but this time, when he did, that box started squakin out this tinny little voice that said, "First, sir, let me apologize for the prediciment I and my bretheren have put you in. We feel just terrible about it, but we were not in our right minds. I offer my sincerest condolences on your current condition."
I couldn't really say nothin, so I just stammered out, "Hey, yeah, it's...um...you know, it's ok. I been worse." I looked over at Alistair and gave him the what-is-going-on-here-look and he shot back with the while-you-were-asleep-these-slugs-attached-you-to-the-wall-with-their-slime-because-they-were-going-to-devour-you-but-then-the-knockout-gas-kicked-in-and-countered-the-meth-in-their-systems-and-they-returned-to-a-normal-state-of-mind-before-that-happened-and-the-squimonk-and-I-were-safe-because-we-made-ourselves-immune-to-the-knockout-gas-(we-also-made-a-pill-that-would-have-made-you-immune-but-we-accidentally-forgot-it-at-the-shop-gee-we're-really-sorry-about-that-now)-and-we-were-standing-around-wondering-what-to-do-next-when-we-see-these-guys-twitchin-at-each-other-and-we-figure-that's-their-language-so-we-bang-together-this-translator-box-from-stuff-in-these-boxes-(it's-really-amazing-what-you-can-find-in-a-99-cent-store-don't-you-think)-and-now-he's-just-trying-to-apologize-and-I-think-you-should-listen-because-he-can-lead-us-to-McClawenstein look, which I had no idea existed and involved a lot of really complicated stuff with his eyebrows. I decided to take the advice transmitted through them eyebrow motions and listen to what McGee had to say, and boy was it interesting.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Rush the 99 Cent Store part 3
There are good times and bad times to yell out something like, "Hands up, scumbags!" I guess the best time would be if you were around a bunch of burlap sacks that are being used to clean off the top of the pond and they have some sort of robot arms or something like that. It would help if you were kickin in a door at the time and they were doin some sorta illicit activity. That would be about the perfect time for that. Accordin to the movies I've seen, yellin "Hands up, scumbags!" is generally an appropriate idea if you are kickin in the door on any sorta known criminal activity as long as you are in a position of righteousness and you're brandishin a weapon of some sort, which is the situation I found myself in. What would be a bad time to yell that would be if you were entering a room full of giant slugs hopped up on meth, which is also the situation I found myself in. The first reason this is bad, as I now know, is that slugs, be they giant or otherwise, ain't got hands. I guess we could have yelled somethin like, "Stalks up!" or "Pseudopods up!", but you don't think of that sorta thing at the spur of the moment. Usually, if my experience is any guide, you're gonna be thinkin somethin like, "Oh heck, I just walked into a room full of giant slugs hopped up on meth and all I got is this little wooden and spring contraption that shoots donuts. Perhaps I have done something wrong in my life that I am only now seeing the consequences of."
Then your reverie might be interrupted by Sheriff Tom standin next to you and yellin, "Holy Baloney! What the heck is this?"
And you'd have to stop and patiently, but quickly explain, "Welp, sheriff, looks to me like a roomful of giant slugs hopped up on meth."
Like I said, though, it'd only be like this if my experience was any sorta guide. If you ever find yourself in this situation, and it don't quite go like what I've said here, then maybe we could compare the two situations and see what's normal. Then, we could start some sorta group or somethin where we get people together to talk about what happened and slowly get a picture of what should be expected in a situation like this and what you could really prepare for. Before our first meeting, I would like to suggest, right at the top of the list, don't yell out, "Hands up, scumbags!" When we did that, all the eyes in that room swiveled around faster than the chamber on a six shooter. All them eyes just sat up on their stalks, not blinkin, not movin, just starin holes through us. I once heard about this guy Bodhidharma who sat and stared at a wall for 9 years because they wouldn't let him into a monastery or somethin like that. When he finally stood up, two little holes were burned in the rock where he was starin. Now, I don't wanna say that these methed up slugs were Buddhists or anythin, I mean they might've been, but I didn't exactly have time to ask them about their socio-political religious background, but I was feelin an awful lot like that wall.
I guess the worst part of the whole situation was that they didn't make any sound of any kind except this sucking sound when they moved. I was goin to a potluck once and carryin with me a big ol' bowl of jello salad when, without warning of any kind, this deer jumped out in front of my truck. I didn't hit it, but I slammed on the brakes real hard and that bowl of jello went flyin. It got all over my dashboard and a whole mess of it went down the heatin vent. Well, I couldn't very well miss the potluck, so I went there before cleanin the truck out. When evenin rolled around, I took Mable Lou over to the car wash and popped a couple of quarters into the vacuum, They got this attachment on those vacuums over there that lets you get that suction power down into your vents and so I figured it could get all the jello out. It didn't work quite as planned. So, for the next couple of years, I'd turn on the heater in the winter and occasionally be spattered with frozen jello. One time it was a frozen piece of pineapple that durn near took my eye out. Point bein, when them giant slugs turned around to face us, they made a sound almost exactly like that jello made when I was tryin to suck it out of my heatin vents with a vacuum.
Fortunately, even large slugs on meth move pretty slow, so it wasn't like we were bein rushed or anything. But by the time they got themselves turned around to face us I was sweatin like the last pig in line at the slaughterhouse. Then, I hear this twang, and see a little white disc, like a puck covered in powdered sugar, fly away from me. I look down and see that I'd shot off the donut gun I was holdin. The squimonk had designed it to have a hair trigger. I'd kept tellin them it was a bad idea, that hair was a terrible material to make a trigger out of, but they insisted that it was stronger than any other materials they had around if they treated it right. They had this stuff that they were curin the hair with so that it would become super strong, but I guess they didn't count on a spring snowstorm in Iowa and so I guess it didn't set up right. So, there I am sweatin bullets and I guess my sweat ate through whatever they covered the hair with and melted the dang trigger. Without the trigger in place, the gun just starts firin, cause we designed it to be an automatic. This thing was just goin off in my hand twang twang twang, launchin week old donuts filled with knockout gas. I though that maybe this could be a good thing for us. We'd just knock out all the slugs and that would be that. Tyin 'em up might prove a problem, but we could cross that bridge when we came to it.
Good luck was not to be, sadly. Them donuts hit the slugs with some mighty force, but they just got absorbed into the things. It'd be a little like drivin a semi-truck full of bricks into a pile of warm peeps, except the semi is actually a donut, the bricks are knockout gas and the pile of warm peeps is a big ol slug that's slowly comin at ya and now, instead of just makin a suckin sound, they're makin a suckin sound and burpin out knockout gas.
I don't know exactly what caused it. It may have been the stress, or the fact that my mornin coffee was wearin off, or maybe it was the cloud of knockout gas that was slowly fillin the room, but that was right about the point I passed out.
Then your reverie might be interrupted by Sheriff Tom standin next to you and yellin, "Holy Baloney! What the heck is this?"
And you'd have to stop and patiently, but quickly explain, "Welp, sheriff, looks to me like a roomful of giant slugs hopped up on meth."
Like I said, though, it'd only be like this if my experience was any sorta guide. If you ever find yourself in this situation, and it don't quite go like what I've said here, then maybe we could compare the two situations and see what's normal. Then, we could start some sorta group or somethin where we get people together to talk about what happened and slowly get a picture of what should be expected in a situation like this and what you could really prepare for. Before our first meeting, I would like to suggest, right at the top of the list, don't yell out, "Hands up, scumbags!" When we did that, all the eyes in that room swiveled around faster than the chamber on a six shooter. All them eyes just sat up on their stalks, not blinkin, not movin, just starin holes through us. I once heard about this guy Bodhidharma who sat and stared at a wall for 9 years because they wouldn't let him into a monastery or somethin like that. When he finally stood up, two little holes were burned in the rock where he was starin. Now, I don't wanna say that these methed up slugs were Buddhists or anythin, I mean they might've been, but I didn't exactly have time to ask them about their socio-political religious background, but I was feelin an awful lot like that wall.
I guess the worst part of the whole situation was that they didn't make any sound of any kind except this sucking sound when they moved. I was goin to a potluck once and carryin with me a big ol' bowl of jello salad when, without warning of any kind, this deer jumped out in front of my truck. I didn't hit it, but I slammed on the brakes real hard and that bowl of jello went flyin. It got all over my dashboard and a whole mess of it went down the heatin vent. Well, I couldn't very well miss the potluck, so I went there before cleanin the truck out. When evenin rolled around, I took Mable Lou over to the car wash and popped a couple of quarters into the vacuum, They got this attachment on those vacuums over there that lets you get that suction power down into your vents and so I figured it could get all the jello out. It didn't work quite as planned. So, for the next couple of years, I'd turn on the heater in the winter and occasionally be spattered with frozen jello. One time it was a frozen piece of pineapple that durn near took my eye out. Point bein, when them giant slugs turned around to face us, they made a sound almost exactly like that jello made when I was tryin to suck it out of my heatin vents with a vacuum.
Fortunately, even large slugs on meth move pretty slow, so it wasn't like we were bein rushed or anything. But by the time they got themselves turned around to face us I was sweatin like the last pig in line at the slaughterhouse. Then, I hear this twang, and see a little white disc, like a puck covered in powdered sugar, fly away from me. I look down and see that I'd shot off the donut gun I was holdin. The squimonk had designed it to have a hair trigger. I'd kept tellin them it was a bad idea, that hair was a terrible material to make a trigger out of, but they insisted that it was stronger than any other materials they had around if they treated it right. They had this stuff that they were curin the hair with so that it would become super strong, but I guess they didn't count on a spring snowstorm in Iowa and so I guess it didn't set up right. So, there I am sweatin bullets and I guess my sweat ate through whatever they covered the hair with and melted the dang trigger. Without the trigger in place, the gun just starts firin, cause we designed it to be an automatic. This thing was just goin off in my hand twang twang twang, launchin week old donuts filled with knockout gas. I though that maybe this could be a good thing for us. We'd just knock out all the slugs and that would be that. Tyin 'em up might prove a problem, but we could cross that bridge when we came to it.
Good luck was not to be, sadly. Them donuts hit the slugs with some mighty force, but they just got absorbed into the things. It'd be a little like drivin a semi-truck full of bricks into a pile of warm peeps, except the semi is actually a donut, the bricks are knockout gas and the pile of warm peeps is a big ol slug that's slowly comin at ya and now, instead of just makin a suckin sound, they're makin a suckin sound and burpin out knockout gas.
I don't know exactly what caused it. It may have been the stress, or the fact that my mornin coffee was wearin off, or maybe it was the cloud of knockout gas that was slowly fillin the room, but that was right about the point I passed out.
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