A vicious intruder lurked outside my basement door in the garage as I opened it Saturday afternoon. His beady eyes stared unflinchingly into mine as I yelped in surprise and jumped back.
“Get out of the road, Toad!” I barked as I peeked around the corner of the basement door. Jump, one of the three ugly, behemoth toads who has taken up residence in my garage this summer, didn’t move so much as a micromillimeter from the welcome mat on the garage floor. (He was not welcome.) As adrenaline began pumping through my system, I glanced quickly around to make sure Hop and Skip had not taken up attack positions nearby. I did not see them, and Jump refused to budge.
I needed to get to my parked car, but there was little room to maneuver. I could take only one step forward and then I might be able to squeeze by him on either side. I tried to scare Jump by bravely taking a step closer before moving back again. He didn’t even blink his warty eyes. I stomped my foot on the floor. I had no idea which way he would hop so I kept my distance. Again, there was no movement. I stomped even harder. He didn’t care. It was an official stand-off.
I knew if he hopped on my foot, I would be Jump’s dinner. Despite my involuntary screaming, if the toad moved, he would continue his assault, proceeding up my leg and torso, before plunging his toady teeth and flickering fang into my jugular vein, causing instantaneous death for me.
I contemplated heading out the front door to circle the house and open the garage door to access my car to avoid the confrontation, but I also knew Hop and Skip liked to chill in front of the garage doors while waiting for crickets to invade their lair. I decided to sprint past Jump as one attacker would certainly be better than two.
I, therefore, bolted out the basement door into the garage, shouting, “Stay away!” Jump never jumped. He stayed his ground. I zipped past him faster than a bee can sting, and raced to open the garage doors for my get-away. I intended to get out of Dodge…I mean, the garage…as fast as I could.
Why Hop, Skip, and Jump live in my garage escapes me. I would think they’d like the pond up over the hill much better. Armed with a rake, I’ve bravely tried to rake the toads outside, but they just turn around the corner of the rake, and hop back inside the garage. I admit I inadvertently backed over a fourth toad with the car earlier in the summer, so I would think they’d consider the garage dangerous.
Why can’t Blackie, my Black Snake who also lives in the garage, eat them? Blackie and I have a deal – I don’t see you, and you can eat all the field mice and icky things you want. I would think, then, Blackie could eat the toads, too, but he hasn’t. Are they too big for him to eat? Are they poisonous? Does Blackie like lean, mice meat better? Or….*gulp*….is Blackie dead? Did the giant toads kill him in a garage take-over?
Some folks may think I’m certifiably quackers, but let me say in my defense, most of us are afraid of something. Fears are not always logical. Some people are afraid of the dark, snakes, heights, clowns, or storms. I’m afraid of things that hop, like grasshoppers, rabbits, raptors, and giant, ugly toads. If they would hold still, I’d be fine, but that unpredictable hopping freaks me out, and I invariably scream.
Do toads croak when cold weather arrives? If Hop, Skip, and Jump migrated south for the winter and never made it back to my southeastern Ohio garage, I’d be singing, “So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, adieu,… to you, and you, and you…,” and that would leave me with just the car-eating groundhogs around here. Go South, Toads!
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Garbage Day
Garbage men in neighborhoods across America are not whom they seem to be. They may look like ordinary garbage men, but these seemingly innocent beings revel in torture, and I suspect they are actually Stormtroopers working for the Empire.
Two months ago, probably under the orders of Emperor Palpatine, Darth Maul switched my garbage collection day…again. Forecast information obviously predicts multiple windy days, and possible rains, on a majority of Wednesdays in Nashport for the next several months.
While people are still at work, therefore, the driving Wednesday winds can hurtle empty trash cans into streets for school buses, Fed Ex trucks, and other assorted vehicles to hit and smash. Because of the fury of the winds on Wednesdays, empty trash cans can roll through fields and entire neighborhoods never to be seen by the owner again. Much lighter trash can lids can be blown to Siberia, or even Naboo and Alderaan.
Following the orders of the Emperor, the Stormtroopers use “mind games” as one torture technique for those putting out their trash. Palpatine intends for all to succumb. For several weeks after the collection day changed, the Storm Troopers roared up to my house to gather trash between 11:10 A.M. – 11:19 A. M. This was merely a trap.
The following Wednesday, my sweet dreams and sound sleep ended violently at 6:53 A.M. The banging metal, crunching, and sputtering sound of the garbage truck in front of my house reverberated in my ears, jerking me awake. The Stormtroopers arrived early. My garbage, to the Emperor’s delight, was not outside in time.
Why do I not put my garbage out the night before, you wonder. Ah! It’s part of Emperor Palpatine’s torture. As he said to Luke, “Your feeble skills are no match for the Power of the Dark Side.”
If I foolishly put my trash out the night before pick up, night varmints slink through the darkness to wildly rip open the garbage bags, scattering trash and garbage all over the yard and road. If anything is still in the garbage bag after the initial attack, evil, marauding crows arrive with the first streaks of light to stab the plastic bags with sharpened beaks to finish the job. At such times I hear faint sounds of the Emperor’s laugh being carried by the wind.
Trying to fool the night creatures is no use. Even duct-taping lids to garbage cans to keep trash safe is no obstacle for raccoons who find taped lids more entertaining than 10 year olds find playing Minecraft. The Emperor smiles when anyone is stupid enough to put their garbage out the night before. As he has said in the past, “Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen.”
Recognize the Stromtroopers for who they are. Do not give in to anger and aggression, or the Dark Side will take over, and turn you into Stormtroopers who must follow the Emperor's orders. Keep your composure during the Garbage Wars, and proudly declare your allegiance to the Jedi. May the Force be with you.
Two months ago, probably under the orders of Emperor Palpatine, Darth Maul switched my garbage collection day…again. Forecast information obviously predicts multiple windy days, and possible rains, on a majority of Wednesdays in Nashport for the next several months.
While people are still at work, therefore, the driving Wednesday winds can hurtle empty trash cans into streets for school buses, Fed Ex trucks, and other assorted vehicles to hit and smash. Because of the fury of the winds on Wednesdays, empty trash cans can roll through fields and entire neighborhoods never to be seen by the owner again. Much lighter trash can lids can be blown to Siberia, or even Naboo and Alderaan.
Following the orders of the Emperor, the Stormtroopers use “mind games” as one torture technique for those putting out their trash. Palpatine intends for all to succumb. For several weeks after the collection day changed, the Storm Troopers roared up to my house to gather trash between 11:10 A.M. – 11:19 A. M. This was merely a trap.
The following Wednesday, my sweet dreams and sound sleep ended violently at 6:53 A.M. The banging metal, crunching, and sputtering sound of the garbage truck in front of my house reverberated in my ears, jerking me awake. The Stormtroopers arrived early. My garbage, to the Emperor’s delight, was not outside in time.
Why do I not put my garbage out the night before, you wonder. Ah! It’s part of Emperor Palpatine’s torture. As he said to Luke, “Your feeble skills are no match for the Power of the Dark Side.”
If I foolishly put my trash out the night before pick up, night varmints slink through the darkness to wildly rip open the garbage bags, scattering trash and garbage all over the yard and road. If anything is still in the garbage bag after the initial attack, evil, marauding crows arrive with the first streaks of light to stab the plastic bags with sharpened beaks to finish the job. At such times I hear faint sounds of the Emperor’s laugh being carried by the wind.
Trying to fool the night creatures is no use. Even duct-taping lids to garbage cans to keep trash safe is no obstacle for raccoons who find taped lids more entertaining than 10 year olds find playing Minecraft. The Emperor smiles when anyone is stupid enough to put their garbage out the night before. As he has said in the past, “Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen.”
Recognize the Stromtroopers for who they are. Do not give in to anger and aggression, or the Dark Side will take over, and turn you into Stormtroopers who must follow the Emperor's orders. Keep your composure during the Garbage Wars, and proudly declare your allegiance to the Jedi. May the Force be with you.
Monday, February 23, 2015
No Mo Crows!
Driving up and down Route 60 North, and in many fields and neighborhoods in northern Muskingum County, the site of a horde of evil, giant crows swooping down upon unguarded garbage bags, massing in the trees, and lining fields is fairly common. They are everywhere.
When I heard the obnoxious screeching of many crows one morning last week, and the singular cry of a red-tailed hawk, I rushed to my back window, only to discover that depraved, black invaders had surrounded my poor hawk in the bottom of the driveway, overpowering him fifteen to one. Those bastards!
I flapped the curtains and the crowd of bullying marauders flew off in a big, black cloud, leaving the hawk sitting by himself, dazed, for a few seconds. The hawk looked around as if wondering how he had been saved, and then took off.
Red-tailed hawks hunt small rodents, and now in the northern part of this county, they are being terrorized. Crows do nothing except poop, and are often so proliferative, they destroy crops. So, they eat a few grasshoppers; so can my cat. Spring is coming and the crow population will be increasing, along with all their pooping on people and everything else. Already crows are running into cars on the Vets Memorial Bridge, and people have complained to me about the crows ripping into their trash bags, scattering trash across yards. Rotting garbage invites skunks, rats, and other critters.
These crows created such a problem in Coshocton County, that measures were taken to force the pooping curmudgeons out of Coshocton, and the crows now have taken up residence here in Muskingum County. How long will the Muskingum County Commissioners harbor these fugitives? I highly recommend you make a call to the commissioners, like I did, voicing concern and asking for a resolution to this problem before it becomes even worse.
When I heard the obnoxious screeching of many crows one morning last week, and the singular cry of a red-tailed hawk, I rushed to my back window, only to discover that depraved, black invaders had surrounded my poor hawk in the bottom of the driveway, overpowering him fifteen to one. Those bastards!
I flapped the curtains and the crowd of bullying marauders flew off in a big, black cloud, leaving the hawk sitting by himself, dazed, for a few seconds. The hawk looked around as if wondering how he had been saved, and then took off.
Red-tailed hawks hunt small rodents, and now in the northern part of this county, they are being terrorized. Crows do nothing except poop, and are often so proliferative, they destroy crops. So, they eat a few grasshoppers; so can my cat. Spring is coming and the crow population will be increasing, along with all their pooping on people and everything else. Already crows are running into cars on the Vets Memorial Bridge, and people have complained to me about the crows ripping into their trash bags, scattering trash across yards. Rotting garbage invites skunks, rats, and other critters.
These crows created such a problem in Coshocton County, that measures were taken to force the pooping curmudgeons out of Coshocton, and the crows now have taken up residence here in Muskingum County. How long will the Muskingum County Commissioners harbor these fugitives? I highly recommend you make a call to the commissioners, like I did, voicing concern and asking for a resolution to this problem before it becomes even worse.
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