I was in a cafe or restaurant with Yanne and this punk-ass kid in his 20's, wearing an 80's style Gap green and orange (?), horizontal-striped shirt, (remember those polo style shirts from their 80's catalog?) decides that he doesn't like me. He says something threatening and then pushes me slightly backward. He is small, thin and aggressive. I know I can kick his ass. Instead, I walk back to my table and reach for my cell phone to call the police. As I am on the phone describing the incident, Yanne is concerned and asking me what is going on. Looking up, the punk is standing in front of me. I ask the 911 operator to hold, casually tell Yanne I will talk to her in a second, and briefly make eye contact with the punk but look past him. He continues walking to the back of the restaurant. I woke up from this dream around 5:50am.
On the bus this morning, around 7am, it's pretty full. I like sitting in the front but there are no seats. I walk towards the back and spot an empty aisle seat. As I approach, there's a kid who is using his leg to block the seat. I wave my hand to motion entry and when I sit down, I turn and look. This punk ass kid is wearing a Gap polo shirt with green and black horizontal stripes! Weird! He is small and thin. I've never seen him before. I remember the dream from earlier. I put on my headphones and listen to NPR. It was a nice bus ride. The end.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
The snake
Hello blog readers. My dad's (Bob) mortal fears are snakes and dying of carbon monoxide. When he moved into his new house last year, he had his gas stove replaced with an electric one. And keeps a wooden Moses-like staff in his bedroom to kill visiting snakes and bible wielding Christians.
He lives in a small rural town and adjacent to his home, is a run-down trailer park; the kind that have torn and dirty curtains hanging from the windows. One day, in his absentmindedness, he left the back screen door open. While he was watching TV, a snake sneaked in. Well, so he thought. He discovered the door ajar and lived in mortal fear of snakes for two weeks. Luckily, no snake appeared. He carefully checked whole house, every day, while holding his Moses stick in hand. By the way, he does have a long, flowing white beard.
Well, last week, at the early 3am hour, when even mice sleep, he felt a smooth body crawl next to his leg. He jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs. When he re-gained his composure and looked around to make sure no one heard his girly 14 year old scream, he went upstairs and grabbed his Moses staff to kick some snake butt...but no snake! I guess his scream scared him off.
He spent the next 24 hours awake, unable to sleep, sitting on his living room couch. He left me several dramatic phone messages throughout the day, keeping me abreast of his lack of sleep and his imprisonment in his home.
The first message went something like this: "Matthew....(long pause, throat clearing) it's your papa....There's a snake in my home. I can't sleep, I am dying..." (sound of the receiver being lazily dropped onto the base).
The second message, a few hours later: "Matthew, my son...I've been up for 24 hours. I can't sleep in my bedroom. The snake will eat me! I might die from lack of sleep. I'm too tired to sleep. I am a prisoner in my own house. A prisoner..." (his voice fades, the receiver is sloppily hung up, probably up-side down).
After a couple of encouraging phone calls from me and my brother, he fell asleep on the couch down stairs, clutching his companion, Moses, in his dry arthritic hand. The next day he called a snake and rodent removal expert. He called the man three times asking for his arrival time. The man arrived and looked. Nothing. No snake. That visit cost him $125.
In the meantime, I did some research online and found that cats are excellent deterrents against snakes. My dad was not encouraged. The snake expert laid two traps consisting of live mice and for over a week, the mice sat helpless in the trap, whimpering softly and slowly dying of starvation. If only that stupid snake appeared again and ate the mice! Was he imagining it? Hmm. After the rodent removal man left, my dad took action and purchased an army style cot and placed it in the bathroom.
A week of sleeping in the bathroom, with the lights on and the army style cot hurting his gentle back, and the snake still did not appear. My dad lived in fear and could not sleep in his bed until he was sure the snake was dead.
Since he has no other life than to call and torment his sons with his snake updates, he paid a contractor $1,300 to build a partition around his bed in his bedroom. The wall goes from the floor to the ceiling and seals in his bed preventing snakes from rooming with him. Picture a room inside a room and that's his new bedroom. He can see out the window but in order to enter his bed, he must open a separate door that is inside his bedroom! He's crazy! At least he can sleep.
The live traps are gone. The snake never came back. They come into homes via small cracks, much like mice do, and look for room and food. Was there really a snake? Last week he drove home and was parking his car, when a little kid from one of the run-down trailers ran up to his car yelling, "Mister, mister....a snake, a snake in my yard!" My dad ran to his house and got Moses from the bedroom. It took him a while because when opening and closing his bedroom door, he made sure he didn't allow any snakes to enter his new partitioned-off room within a room, and ran back to the kid who already sought help with another neighbor.
When my dad arrived with his wooden stick, the other neighbor brought a shot gun. There, on a tree, resting in the warmth of the sun, was a black snake. The kids yelled, "The snake, the snake!" My dad felt powerless as the the neighbor fired and killed it. He turned to him and said in a sarcastic tone, "There's your snake, Bob!" Yes, reader. There's his $1,425 snake, dead, in the tree.
He lives in a small rural town and adjacent to his home, is a run-down trailer park; the kind that have torn and dirty curtains hanging from the windows. One day, in his absentmindedness, he left the back screen door open. While he was watching TV, a snake sneaked in. Well, so he thought. He discovered the door ajar and lived in mortal fear of snakes for two weeks. Luckily, no snake appeared. He carefully checked whole house, every day, while holding his Moses stick in hand. By the way, he does have a long, flowing white beard.
Well, last week, at the early 3am hour, when even mice sleep, he felt a smooth body crawl next to his leg. He jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs. When he re-gained his composure and looked around to make sure no one heard his girly 14 year old scream, he went upstairs and grabbed his Moses staff to kick some snake butt...but no snake! I guess his scream scared him off.
He spent the next 24 hours awake, unable to sleep, sitting on his living room couch. He left me several dramatic phone messages throughout the day, keeping me abreast of his lack of sleep and his imprisonment in his home.
The first message went something like this: "Matthew....(long pause, throat clearing) it's your papa....There's a snake in my home. I can't sleep, I am dying..." (sound of the receiver being lazily dropped onto the base).
The second message, a few hours later: "Matthew, my son...I've been up for 24 hours. I can't sleep in my bedroom. The snake will eat me! I might die from lack of sleep. I'm too tired to sleep. I am a prisoner in my own house. A prisoner..." (his voice fades, the receiver is sloppily hung up, probably up-side down).
After a couple of encouraging phone calls from me and my brother, he fell asleep on the couch down stairs, clutching his companion, Moses, in his dry arthritic hand. The next day he called a snake and rodent removal expert. He called the man three times asking for his arrival time. The man arrived and looked. Nothing. No snake. That visit cost him $125.
In the meantime, I did some research online and found that cats are excellent deterrents against snakes. My dad was not encouraged. The snake expert laid two traps consisting of live mice and for over a week, the mice sat helpless in the trap, whimpering softly and slowly dying of starvation. If only that stupid snake appeared again and ate the mice! Was he imagining it? Hmm. After the rodent removal man left, my dad took action and purchased an army style cot and placed it in the bathroom.
A week of sleeping in the bathroom, with the lights on and the army style cot hurting his gentle back, and the snake still did not appear. My dad lived in fear and could not sleep in his bed until he was sure the snake was dead.
Since he has no other life than to call and torment his sons with his snake updates, he paid a contractor $1,300 to build a partition around his bed in his bedroom. The wall goes from the floor to the ceiling and seals in his bed preventing snakes from rooming with him. Picture a room inside a room and that's his new bedroom. He can see out the window but in order to enter his bed, he must open a separate door that is inside his bedroom! He's crazy! At least he can sleep.
The live traps are gone. The snake never came back. They come into homes via small cracks, much like mice do, and look for room and food. Was there really a snake? Last week he drove home and was parking his car, when a little kid from one of the run-down trailers ran up to his car yelling, "Mister, mister....a snake, a snake in my yard!" My dad ran to his house and got Moses from the bedroom. It took him a while because when opening and closing his bedroom door, he made sure he didn't allow any snakes to enter his new partitioned-off room within a room, and ran back to the kid who already sought help with another neighbor.
When my dad arrived with his wooden stick, the other neighbor brought a shot gun. There, on a tree, resting in the warmth of the sun, was a black snake. The kids yelled, "The snake, the snake!" My dad felt powerless as the the neighbor fired and killed it. He turned to him and said in a sarcastic tone, "There's your snake, Bob!" Yes, reader. There's his $1,425 snake, dead, in the tree.
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