Friday, December 03, 2004

A prowler

I kept hearing noises this morning in bed. At first I thought it was a dog and then as I woke up a little more I remembered…I don’t have a dog. What the fuck is that?

I sat up and looked around the room, holding my breath so I could hear it better. It was a shuffling sound coming from outside. Oh, I’m about to kill me some motherfuckers up in my yard. I slipped out of bed.

“What are you-“

“Shh! There’s someone in our yard.” I whispered.

“You’ve lost your mind. It’s probably a o’possum.”

Yeah, you hold onto that, dear, until he breaks in and shoots my ass then plunders yours. “You’re probably right, baby.”

I walked slowly toward the window, the shuffling still really soft. Then it touched the bedroom glass. “Stay in bed!” The last thing I need is some silly woman running around the room screaming.

I crouched down and rushed to the side of the window, then quickly yanked back the curtain and used the element of surprise to scare the holyshit out of the motherfucker. “Get the fuck back! Get the fuck back! Motherfucker! Raaarrrrrr!”

Through the window I saw the vines rustle and then something shot out and stopped quickly in the center of the deck and looked back at the window.

Meow.

Jazz snickered.

It was Juicy’s cat, Shasta, from next door. Fucking cat.

I got back in bed despite the barest of humiliations. Even a little crook would have been nice right there to keep me from looking like a retard. I didn’t speak a word, just got in bed and turned my back to the wench, knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to resist for long. Then finally, in the sweetest, calmest of voices, she said, “Get the fuck back? Get the fuck back, motherfucker? Raaarrrrr?” Then started laughing.

That’s the last time I read Jack’s blog before bed time.