Monday, March 21, 2011

talking out my ass

(written under the influence of william faulkner.)

some time ago, we took in a stray cat, a declawed, neutered black and white male we named binx after the human boy/cursed cat in the kid's halloween movie, hocus pocus. clearly, he had been some coddled lap pet cum street thug after having been dumped prior to his old family's move.

my soft-hearted wife had to put out some food for him, and the rest, as they say, was history. he assimilated well, playing much too roughly with pele, the idiot, and not taking any shit from pepper, the queen bitch. he felt an undying need to prove his "street"-ness by going outside any time we opened the front door to roll around in the driveway, mad-eye the birds, and come back in with tales of, "see? i'm still fucking tough. i'm dirty and skinny and i don't take no shit from nobody."

once we put in an automatic cat feeder to prevent him from waking us up at four a.m. insisting loudly that he was starving to death, he had to quit adding the "skinny" part.

tonight, while i am enjoying some black cavendish in a decidely mid-2oth century american style pipe and reading william faulkner's "a rose for emily" so that my wife can pass her english composition ii class, i hear a very angry, enraged bird, or something similar. slowly dawning into my concentrating, and mildy gin-befuddled brain like daybreak over a swamp, this noise increases. a mad, frightened, unhappy chirping/squealing noise that builds and builds. i realize it is getting closer. i realize that it is probably being drug against its will by sharp teeth and clawless black front paws.

"oh, good boy, binx! good boy!" i say my bullshit line like some panama-shirt clad fifties dad in a straw fedora patting his son on the head after shooting all the neighborhood mockingbirds with the bb gun he received for his birthday. and then, through deft sleight-of-hand, i disengage the cat from shrieking--what is that, a mouse? fucking huge!

of course, binx bolts back after the escaped prey. by now, my wife has broke upon the scene. i am explaining that binx has just brought some live, decidedly overlarge mouse to the front door to present as his contribution to the family, when the repetitive shrieking begins again.

all with "good boy"'s punctuated with smoke stack blasts of light grey smoke, as we again create a diversion for our cat that seems bound to prove he has not, in fact, "gotten fat" as we claim, but is still 100% "street." and then we realize, it's not a large mouse, it is a baby bunny.

well, of course, my wife can't have this. off again (third time's the charm!) binx goes to track down his prey, and bring it, chirping in anger and embarrassment, by its hind leg to our front porch. i don't laugh until later that the clawless, overweight, dirty thug cat is all the while getting his face kicked in by the other, unfettered, hind leg. this time, we are successful in rounding up the cat and locking him in a downstairs bathroom, behind a constant litany of "good boy, good boy! good job, binx, good job, buddy." while the baby bunny rabbit beats feet for somewhere safe.

and, of course, as you, the beloved non-existent reader might imagine, the wife cannot let nature take its course; she goes out with a flashlight to make sure the bunny has made a clean getaway, while i insist that if she fucks with it too much its own mother will kill it for smelling like a human.

the bunny has gotten away, sans human smell, or a big black cat anklet. binx, judging by the look in his eye and the lashing of his tail, is not buying my bullshit empty praise.

all in a day's work at the sardonic household.

darth sardonic.

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Tuesday, March 15, 2011

by way of an update...

to quickly tie up the loose ends from the last two posts: a police report was filed. we met with the principal, who expressed great concern, said she would follow up on it and talk to the teacher to see if this was perhaps a trend of which no one had become aware. she also informed us she would have to call the mother and talk with her. we said that was fine.

a few days later, no. 1 gets off the bus and said, "dad, i think me and [charles manson] are friends now." well, o my beloved non-existent readers, it goes without saying that i expressed great consternation at this, but asked him why he felt that way. he told me that the offender had apologized to him, and they had shaken hands. i attempted to be magnanimous, and said, "well, that is very nice of him." but here my graciousness ended: "but i still don't want you hanging out with that kid, or talking to him, understand?" no. 1 nodded assent.

on that front, let's hope that i never have any more to report.

in other news, school keeps me busy, the two classes i am taking having abnormal homework loads, but i keep on top of it. i got my graduation paperwork today, and if i maintain a's in both (we're halfway through the school year and i currently have a 100 in one and a 97 or 98 in the other, without any signs that this should change in the next two months) i will graduate with honors, despite an atrociously poor showing my very first year of college at byu. (they wanted to stick me on academic probation!)

s the drummer and i met up with a couple guitarists, one friend of mine, k, and one friend of his, m, to try and create a new band from the ashes of the old. apparently, s the drummer didn't like k, or his musical style, or something, as he only wants to jam with m. and apparently s the drummer and m are ok with just jamming in my garage and not really doing much to branch out further than that. k is more than interested in fleshing out the veritable cornucopia of original songs i have been dutifully jotting down over the years, with the intent of playing out. so i had one fun jam with s the drummer and m, where little was accomplished beyond blowing off some steam and having a good time, and then another weekend had a jam with k and another of our friends, sc the drummer, in which we nailed down two songs, one an original of mine, and the other a potential cover, and they agreed that emptyhead was a perfectly good band name, and we discussed regular practices with plans to work on a setlist. and, at the same time, we blew off some steam and had a good time.

the boys have, overall, been doing pretty well in school lately; as well as in life. i feel like they are making headway in following my directions and accomplishing the things i want them to accomplish. no. 1 is talking about cub scouts, and while i think i might get roped unfairly into doing much more as a scout leader than i really want, i think the benefits might outweigh the grumbling aggravation this might cause me.

not much of a post really, but for now, better'n nothin'.

darth sardonic

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