So I can finally talk about this without shuddering… much. There I was, innocently minding my own business, reading “Freakonomics” in the bathroom, and out of the corner of my eye I saw something run by. Curie and Sagan were both napping, so I was immediately alarmed. I thought maybe it was a mouse. (This should give you an idea of the size of the thing.) It was not a mouse. It was a centipede. It dashed into the laundry nook. “Aahh!” I said and looked around for help. No help was in sight. I believe in being prepared. I also believe in keeping an eye on my enemy. This presented a dilemma. I had to go find weapons without taking my eye off the creature. So I would run out of the bathroom, look around for something, anything -- where is a bazooka when I need one? -- and then race back in to see if he was still there. I did this several times. Finally, armed with a long piece of, well, bamboo (to poke with, of course), a bottle of bathroom cleaner, and a big cup, I advanced ...
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I can just hear them back at their lair...
"Sweet! That yuppiemobile was loaded!"
"Hey dipwad, help me unload this stuff."
"In a second, grandma! Check out this GPS!"
"OK if you're not gonna help, at least dry the tools and put them away."
"Where does the jack go?"
"Oh criminy, do I have to do everything? Move over, clown. There. Now hand me the lug wrench."
"It's not here."
"Idiot. Look in back."
"I'm telling you, it's not here. I looked everywhere."
"I swear to god, if you left it behind... I'll do the next one with your teeth."
"I could go back for it."
"You're a moron. Help me with these wheels."
Also, um. I don't think thugs say "criminy" much these days.
:-)
Why art thou leering at Marsh's ......
Sorry, but else would a rearview do? :)