Gut Rumbles
 

April 01, 2008

I can do leliks too

Originally published August 1, 2003

I left Castle Fatlighter this morning and headed to the Target store to buy Horsefly another goddam trinket for the charm bracelet my unemployed wife bought on a credit card last week. I'm getting lots of strange shit in the mail since she quit working. I like the cosmic weed-whacker, but that goddam pancake skillet sucks. Jumpfuck The Wonderdog wouldn't eat the shit I burned in there. Even the ants are avoiding that mess.

But Jumpfuck ran like Moody's Goose when I fired up the cosmic weed-whacker and chased him all over the yard. One nip on the tail and he understood the menace in those whirring, ever-lasting blades right away. I didn't have to bang the head of that tool on the driveway to cut his ass. He knew it, too.

Horsefly clapped her hands and sounded soooo cute when she said, "Kill the dog, Daddy! Get that no-good motherfucker!" But Jumpfuck is goddam fast when he's got a cosmic weed-whacker aimed at his ass. He outran me and left a piss-trail in his wake. I slipped and fell in it, too, and damned near cut my pecker off with the weed-whacker. I HATE that fucking dog.

Anyway, I put the cosmic weed-whacker on autopilot and let it run around the Castle Fatlighter grounds to eat squirrels and toads. They make good compost and I hate them, too. As I backed down the driveway and knocked over three trash cans, I saw the damned whacking-thing go after Horsefly. Well, I figure that a kid's gotta be tough. She made a good jump off the porch and was running fast, well ahead of the whacker the last time I looked.

I never made it to Target.

I saw an old billboard. I stopped to take pictures. I used a digital camera that is specially tailored for my ultimately cool, overpriced, goddam Borg-manufactured Mac computer and I saw my reflection in the lens. OHMYGOD! I never knew that I was almost bald-headed! WHATTHEFUCK is that weird, widow's-peak growth on my head???? It's not hair. It's.... REMNANTS OF THE BLOB!!!

Steve McQueen didn't kill it. The freeze-bomb didn't get all of it. What's left is ON MY HEAD!!!! I worried about that fact for about 30 seconds, then went into a Minnesota Trance. That happens to people who live in 40-below-zero weather for more than five minutes per year. Your brain just goes off by itself and it feels fine when that happens. Brain is happy. It also takes that opportunity to fuck with you and it doesn't fight fair.

I figured that as long as I wasn't being stuffed into a tree-shredder the way that guy in FARGO ended up, I was okay. So, when I fell asleep in the ditch, it didn't matter to me. I could feel my brain laughing, but I didn't care. I was more concerned about my unemployed wife and the goddam credit cards in her purse.

Put a woman in a Minnesota Trance with a credit card in her hand, and I'm totally fucked. Fort Knox doesn't have enough money to cover what happens after that.

But, what the hell? I never got where I was going, I have parts of the blob on my head and I have a column to post before deadline tomorrow. Fuck it all.

I'll worry about that when I wake up in the morning. In the ditch.

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