News from Choctaw Ridge
Saw a snappy-dressed man strutting up Main Street in Lewiston the other day having an animated conversation on his phone. Arm-waving, fist-pumping, foot-stomping and all that jazz. Whenever I see something like that, I like to fill in the blanks by making up my own story of what the conversation entails. Turns out this guy had loaned his roommate a Bobbie Gentry album and now there was a heated dispute about exactly what Billie Joe McAllister and that farm girl had thrown off the Tallahatchie Bridge. The roommate insisted that it was a doll because he had seen it in the movie. The guy on the street ranted that it wasn’t a doll, you moron, because the movie doesn’t count. We’re talking about the song here. To which the roommate replied, it does so count, idiot, because the movie is based on the song. To which the guy with the phone spat that, no way, dummy. They tossed either an engagement ring or a baby off the bridge, not some stupid doll. The conversation got really ugly from there, but at that point I rear-ended a beer truck and didn’t catch how it turned out.
Better Call Paul
This line is written on the back of Auburn lawyer Paul Corey’s business card. If you don’t understand why this is powerfully awesome, you need to spend more time on Netflix. Paul is definitely the guy I’ll call when I finally get busted for running this meth operation.
There is no meth operation. Stay away from my shed.
Dinnertime in downtown Lewiston
So, some screeching woman called police early in the week to report that her roommate was “all up in my face” over who’s turn it was to make dinner that night. I presume the cop sent both ladies to their rooms without any supper. That’s how I would have played it. And no TV privileges for a week, little miss.
A day later there was a police call in Auburn for a man in an office building threatening people, claiming to be a vampire and acting belligerent. Wouldn’t it be stranger if he was a vampire but NOT acting belligerent? I think belligerence is kind of built in to the whole undead, blood-thirsting concept. We’ve got to start arming our cops with holy water and garlic.
Whenever I hear a vampire call on the police radio, I pray it’s one of those twinkling “Twilight”-style bloodsuckers, or even one of those blow-dried “Lost Boys.” The alternative is some mean hombre like Gary Oldman or some creeping horror like Nosferatu. Who needs it?
I haven’t watched any of the Olympics and have nothing to say about them. The only wintertime events I get involved in are the Fist-Shaking Snowbank Curse, the Wobbly Roof-Rake Electric Lines Dodge, the Indoor Sun-Starved Power Sulk, the Angry Spatula Windshield Scrape and Unintentional Driveway Skating. Give me my gold medal and go away already.
It was a baby. Nothing else makes sense.