Monday, May 24, 2010

the mayor of crazy town attends a funeral for a sock

living in our house we have 2 grown ups - mom and husband, 3 children - #1, #2, #3, 1 dog - beagle, and 2 gerbils - squiqqy and ziggy. we also call them honey and the black one, or honey and the one that bites, or lenny and squiggy, or rex and the other one.  i actually don't really care what they are called. they are stinky, and they tend to bite.  it is kind of fun to watch them nibble on their sunflower seeds at night, but i could probably watch that on youtube for free and never have to clean the gerbil cage again.

we once had an afternoon when we had nothing to do. no baseball, no mommy working, no soccer. wow. sounds nice, right? wrong. we cannot be left home alone with nothing to do. something bad usually happens. on this particular nothing-to-do day, i sent #1 upstairs for a timeout 5 minutes after we got home from school. he returns immediately and he is panic stricken.

 mom, honey is dead, and the black one killed him!

oh, no, #1, i'm sure he's fine. the black one would never kill honey.

upon investigation, i find the black one eating honey. literally. i keep trying to get the very excited kids out of the room. #1 is crying, #2 is screaming, and #3 is yelling something about cowboy boots and underwear day.

i secure the scene and prepare to dispose of the body. i have in my possession a large black trash bag, rubber gloves and a bottle of mean green.  in the middle of removing the body (read - emptying the cage contents into the trash bag, body and all), #1 enters the room. 

are you just going ... to ... throw ... honey ... away...? ... ! ... ?

(actually, that was my plan, but, he'll never know.)

of course, not #1.  i was just holing him there until you got here.

we need to bury him.


yes, sniff, sniff, we should call a craftsman and have him deliver a special metal box to bury honey in.

while i would love to track down a craftsman and get honey a very nice metal box, i'm afraid that is going to be impossible because all of the good craftsman are finished working by 330, and it's after 4.

wwwwaaaahhhhhhhhh ....... sniff sniff sniff

how about if we find a special cloth to wrap him in for his funeral?  maybe like this very special bandanna?

oh, mom, that would be perfect! honey loved red.

now i remove honey from the trash can and very ceremoniously wrap him in the sacred red bandanna while #1 is silently praying. he wants to be a priest, you know, but only if he doesn't have to shave his head.  after en robing the body, i let #1 hold it, then i quickly shoo him from the room while i clean up. in case you don't know, i do not run a pet cemetery here.  and i'm not about to start today.  so, i quickly put honey back in the trash and wrapped something else in the bandanna.  then i put it away up high so no one would get into it before the funeral and accidentally discover the truth. now it's time ...

the back door opens and closes and small feet come walking in. it's #3.

mom, i'm done pooping.

huh? weren't you just outside?

yep. come wipe me.

ok. what's going on? (he is naked from the waist down except for his flip flops.)

i pooped outside just like we do at the farm.

we're not at the farm. at home we poop inside, in the toilet.


gross. who's going to clean up that mess?  (he puts his hand on my arm and gives my that i know you rode the short bus here, old lady, patronizing look.)

don't worry about that mom. beagle already ate all my poop.

enter husband. now were all here and we can proceed with the funeral. mom, husband, a keening #1, #2 who couldn't really care less, pants less #3, and poop-eating beagle.  husband digs hole and gently places bandanna in the bottom.  then he plays the newly downloaded taps on his iphone while #1 tosses shovels of dirt over honey. 

when questioned later that night by husband about what would happen when beagle dug up honey, i answered that we had just had a funeral for a sock. that's right. the old switcheroo.

fast forward to the next morning. #1 wakes up first and beagle wakes up. we tell #1 to let beagle outside, and he refuses. he is anxious that beagle will disturb honey's grave. husband is sure to explain that if she does, she will surely eat the body, so there will be no sense in searching for it. ever.

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