The Road From Hell

The Road from Hell

Isn’t Paved

There has been a lot of rain in past month or two.  Some records were set.  Like Devil’s Elbow was flooded. Like bull frogs and cow frogs are seen wearing orange May West’s.

The excess precipitation causes a distinct downward trend in the density of our dirt roads.  And the coefficient of friction.  The normally dusty surface turns to a gooey sub-substance. Like ooblick.  Except its not green – but a fluorescent brown.

As a result motorized vehicles get bogged down. Unmotorized vehicles and pedestrians also.

When asked where Frogtown is, I reply: “Go to Hell. Then keep going another 5 miles”

Julie objects to me telling people this,  “Its rude. And not particularly accurate or helpful.”

I can’t argue with Her.  The directions only work if one is coming from due east.  And since there are a number of lakes and other obstacles,  one must take a few detours and anti-portages.

If approaching Frogtown from the west if you find yourself in Hell – you’ve gone too far.

And if traveling from all other points of the compass, the Hell is only a marginal point of interest.  Trust me, Hell is boring as… well, Hell. You wouldn’t want to visit. Don’t waste your time. Even the Tee shirts are no longer fashionable. And I know unfashionable.

If  one day you do find yourself going through Hell, give us a call. We’ll try to steer you to a far far better place.

I still persist in giving my directions. Rude is what I do.

What all this is leading up to is an advisory:

You can’t get here from there. And if you did, you couldn’t get back there.

This condition is not expected to last forever. You’ll know when the mosquitoes are no longer wearing Wellies.

I was sitting at my computer working on brilliant idea: # 78,573.6 rev. 7.4:  mail order Kitty Pops – a frozen treat for dogs.

Bop

Did I mention Julie’s baseball bat? She uses it to get my attention. And administer behavior modification stimulus.  I found it in Victoria’s Secret catalog, in the S&M section.  It was circled in red by Jane, the ignorant slut.  I bought it for Her (Julie’s, not Jane’s) birthday. It’s pink and made of foam. Doesn’t hurt (much) and makes a loud noise when applied vigorously to the cranium: Bop

“Did you remember today is _____’s birthday?”  or something like that.

Maybe somebody’s anniversary, or Great Uncle Day or somebody’s significant event.   I forget what She said.

I said to Her, “Errr…. why don’t you send them an e’card?”

Bop

“Ok, ok! I meant to call them, but I had to work on this great idea. Number 23, 421.  Recycling dryer lint into socks and underwear”

Bop

“You’d have more friends if you’d pay more attention to them.”

“I don’t need any more friends. The ones I already have are terrific. And they’re use to my neglect. They’d worry if I started acting strangely”

Bop

“You are sooo self involved.”

Me: “am not.”

Her: “Are too.”

Me: “am not.”

This exchange went on for a while.

Her: “You don’t even know what ‘self involved’ means.”

“ Do too.

It means somebody is more interested in themselves than they are in me.”

Bop

“You better reconsider your priorities”   and with a final Bop She walked away.

That sounded like a good idea.  I’m working on it now: a database program that automatically sorts good ideas by priority. Idea # 83,555,

Bop

Dave, Julie, Flannel Dog, Tangelo, Peabody & Instant Karma Chocolate Pudding Wright

Frogtown – 5 miles west of Hell

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1 Response so far »

  1. 1

    David Kirk said,

    Great blog title!


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