The Journal of Joe The Peacock. Yay.

5.22.2004:

4:19 AM

So begins the 15 part story over on Mentally Incontinent.

I've actually had this story in mind for over a year now, I just had no clue how best to tell it. And to be honest, I still don't. I'm kinda just going for it, and I hope it works.

So, the other day, I'm driving along and suddenly I hear a loud smack against my passenger side door. I stop the car and get out to examine what the heck just happened. I walked back a few paces and there, laying on the ground, was a Bull's horn.

I was nowhere NEAR a farm.

So I pick up this bull's horn and ponder it a second. Could this be what hit my car? I looked around and there was NOTHING else which could have flown at my vehicle, so I surmised that this was the object which clattered against my vehicle. As I stood there puzzling over the situation, I heard snickering from behind a few empty oil drums in a yard nearby.

So I go and investigate, and there are three mischevious-looking children ducked behind these drums, laughing their little louse-ridden heads off.

"Let me guess," I said, "One of you three chucked this cow's horn at my car."

"NUH UH!!!!" they all said, then resumed snickering.

"Hmm... what if I knocked on that door up there and asked your parents?" I said.

"Go ahead," One of the little hellions said, "We don't care!"

"YES WE DO!" another of the hellions said. "No, please don't do that!"

I stroked my goatee and pondered the situation. "No, I think I'd better have a talk with your mom and dad," I finally replied, knowing that when I was that age, it would have been the one thing I dreaded. So I marched up to the door and rapped on it a second. An ENORMOUSLY overweight woman came to the door, clad in a pink bathrobe (which may very well have been bedsheets - nothing less than Queen) and hair curlers.

"Yah?" She said, the cigarette dangling from her bottom lip.

"Excuse me, madam," I said politely, "But I do believe that these three just flung a bull's horn at my car."

She stared at me a second. "Eh, doesn't matter," She said, and slammed the door in my face.

I was naturally in shock. Back in the days of my youth, had someone approached my mother with this information and evidence - especially something as ludicrous as a COW HORN - I'd have had the living shit beat out of me, and that's before I even told her my side of the story. So, I knocked again. She opened the door again.

"What now?" She said through phlegm-coated vocal cords.

"Doesn't it disturb you that your children are lobbing foreign objects at passing vehicles?" I asked.

"Well, sure, it bothers me. I have to break away from my soaps to deal with it."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Lady, your kids whipped the horn of an animal at a passing car and the only thing you're concerned about is your soaps?"

"Yah."

Then she slammed the door in my face again.

To be honest, I don't know which was worse - the dent in the side of my passenger door created by the flying bovine horn or the laughing of the three children as I trudged defeated back to my car and headed on to work.

* * *

(Permalink)