vituperation

October 24, 2002

Many thanks to readers Anonymous (but I think I know who you are), Laura, Sammi, Heather, Donna, Patrick, Regan (a creepy name, given what’s coming later in this entry), Joanna, and Felix, who sent money ($1, $1, $2, $2, $3, $5, $5, $5, and $10) as donations to the Huntsville Animal shelter, bringing the total collected to $68. Additionally, reader Felix stuck a “double it!” note in with his (her?) $10, which adds $10 from me, taking the total to $78, which I will deliver at the next meeting.

Seventy-eight bucks. You guys kick total ass. In one collection from the PO box, the amount donated more than doubled.

As a last mention for a while, if you want to donate, stick a buck in an envelope and send it to Fred Saves Some Pets, PO Box 565, Madison AL 35758. If you include a piece of paper with the words “double it!” written thereupon, I’ll match your contribution with one of my own, dollar for dollar until I’ve donated a total of $50. Who loves ya?

Congratulations are in order for reader Lori, who was randomly selected to receive the ever popular “Keep Honking, I’m Reloading” bumper sticker. As a side note, I’ve only gotten three entries for the “What Would Scooby Do?” sticker, and I think that may be because of the question where I asked you to tell me what Scooby would do. There’s no correct answer, stop Googling for one. It isn’t a quiz, I just thought ya’ll could have some fun with telling me what you thought Scooby would do. Then again, maybe no one’s interested in the sticker.

Trust me, when it’s a quiz - look for one soon for a book - you’ll know it.

Last night Robyn and I watched The Exorcist on DVD, which I’d rented at Blockbuster. Robyn had never seen it, and it had been many years since I had. I got “The Version You’ve Never Seen” which had an extra 10 or 12 minutes of footage, including what has to be the creepiest scene I’ve ever seen in a movie, the spider walk. Gah. I’d read an interesting article yesterday at Entertainment Weekly’s web site, about the thirteen scariest movies of all time. That’s what started the whole ball rolling that culminated with us renting and watching the movie, because The Exorcist topped their list.

But I digress.

After the movie, we were sitting in our various spots - Robyn on the couch and me on the loveseat - while she watched The Amazing Race and I read. Miz Poo sat on the couch next to Robyn, perched precariously atop a towel on a stack of pillows and leaning slightly against my wife. She (Miz Poo) made it through the lip biopsy just fine, but has a drooling problem currently which gives her a certain, how shall I say, essence.

“Miz Poo,” Robyn casually remarked, “you sure are stinky.”

I couldn’t resist.

“I got your stinky right here,” I hooted, and let loose with one of the benefits of having had black beans with my lunch. I guffawed loudly, proud as could be of my accomplishment, then looked expectantly at her. “What you got to say about that?” I asked.

My wife was without words. This did not prevent her from responding, however. With a bubbly trumpeting roar, her hindquarters told me exactly what she had to say about that. I was stunned by her masterful control, by the way she so eloquently spoke her mind with nary a word. We both laughed and resumed what we were doing.

Miz Poo mostly looked disgusted.

A couple of minutes later the inevitable happened. My wife, you see, doesn’t share my flatulence talents and can generally only produce such blatting monsters at certain times of the day. This was apparently one such time, and she quickly stood up and rounded the end of the couch so she could visit the facilities to take care of a little business.

Unfortunately, she forgot Miz Poo was leaned up against her.

The pile of pillows rose with Miz Poo atop them, and started to tip over onto the spot where Robyn had been sitting. I shouted for Robyn to help Miz Poo and Robyn leapt forward to try steadying the pile of pillows. As she bent, there was a loud tearing sound from behind her, only it wasn’t clothes. She was ripping something else.

Robyn caught the edge of a pillow and held it briefly before realizing she had an emergency of a different sort on her hands. She let go of the pillows, spun quickly, and goose-stepped across the room towards the bathroom. She punctuated each step with a staccato rat-a-tat-tat machine gun burst from her backside.

Mostly, I sat one the loveseat and laughed, useless.

The tower of pillows swelled once again and slowly began leaning to one side. Miz Poo rode the crest like a little calico surfer catching the perfect curl. There was a single brief instant where I thought she was going to keep it from tipping over by climbing the pillow she was on as it became vertical, but I was wrong. Without a sound the stack of pillows tumbled, burying Miz Poo under her them and her towel.

Miz Poo stayed there until Robyn came back and uncovered her, at which point she chirped accusingly.

Yes, I did go get the camera and take a picture.