Friday, September 05, 2008

Another Party Tale - This Time More Appropriate

I feel like I haven't been in top form with the quality of my posts lately and it's making me a little guilty. The deal is this, and I apologize for being boring or a blogging cliche or not writing at the standard I prefer, but I am really busy. It's the first couple weeks of school, I had freakin' jury duty this week which caused me to miss school, which then caused me to have to make major adjustments and I'm writing two long pieces which have looming deadlines. I had to edit two other pieces and of course I've still been trying to sell all of my worldly possessions because that's just fun. I am not kidding you all, I made over four hundred dollars this week selling my old junk and it was junk I didn't even hardly know I had. Can you believe that? I wish everyone would sell their old crap and experience my same joy. But anyhow, usually when I'm busy I just don't write at all, but this time I thought maybe I should try something different and try to blog through the busy-ness, even if it isn't at the standard to which I aspire. I thought, maybe that's ok. When bloggers I like don't post for a long time because they're busy it makes me mad (umm, I'm thinking specifically of YOU Miss Doxie). I'd rather have a little something to read than nothing at all, and plus when I write on here it keeps my writing energy going. Plus, when you write even when you're busy or you don't feel like it, sometimes you end up surprising yourself with what might come out of it.

I'm still busy as hell today. I have to work and then I have to come home and PREPARE FOR MY IMMINENT DEATH at the hands of Hurricane Ike. I've been working myself into an anxiety attack over this storm the past few days. Being at school doesn't help because the campus is like a giant game of "telephone" and the rumors go flying. Yesterday I think I overheard that it was a Category 6 and was going to actually detach Florida from the rest of the country with its 295 mile an hour winds and blow it clean over to the Abacos. I wouldn't say that my anxiety over Ike comes from fear per se. It's more a great and horrific dread of the inconvenience I will inevitably suffer due to this storm. After Wilma we went over three weeks without electricity and there was literally no food in the grocery store, mass hysteria, looting, a curfew, soldiers all over the streets and no one could get any gas. It was truly a disaster. It wasn't on the national news a lot because it was after Katrina and it was like a birthday party with pony rides compared to what happened in New Orleans so we didn't get a lot of press and we all felt like a bunch of ass-wipes even complaining because at least we weren't in the Ninth Ward. But if Katrina hadn't happened I'm pretty sure Wilma and South Florida would have at least gotten a short telethon. So I'm not all that excited to live through that again, and partly because Bella doesn't live here anymore and she and I had a world of fun during Wilma's aftermath and she kept me occupied while my super-hero Husband hooked up a generator for a local gas station.

In preparation for this storm and my imminent death I took stock of everything in the deep freeze last night. My parents have one of those freezers that is about the size of a small coffin and sits in the garage. I love this thing. I swear that one day I will have a garage too and I will have one myself. I love freezing things. In the bottom of the deep freezer I found three whole chickens and I was reminded of another story my mom often tells amongst gatherings of friends. This one is G-rated, involves no penises and although there is a chicken, it isn't getting toilet paper shoved up its ass.

Many years ago we lived in a pink house. I was in my late teens when this happened I think and at that time we had two dogs and a black tuxedo cat named Purrmachine - Purrma Jean for short because that's more feminine and she was a girl. The dogs' names were Toots and Gaga, because we can't give our pets normal names in this family. Toots was a pomeranian and Gaga was a yorkie.

One day my mother took a chicken out of the freezer and put it in the sink to thaw. Then she went out and although I don't know this for certain I bet she went to Ross. Several hours later she returned and the chicken had simply vanished from the sink. First she thought she was going crazy. Maybe she had just thought she took the chicken out of the freezer. She looked back into the freezer and there was no chicken in there either. She looked in the refrigerator and all over the kitchen and there was no chicken. She asked my dad if he saw the chicken and he hadn't. Then she came to me and because I was a teenager and full of angst, drama and paranoia I think I said something to the effect of:

"WHYYYAREYOUBLAMINGME???? You blame me for everythiiiiiiiinnnnng. What would I do with a chicken oh my god I hate you you are so mean like what would I do with a chicken????"

My mother then concluded that the only possible explanation was that someone had come into the house, walked directly into the kitchen and had stolen the chicken. Now why a thief would make off with a half froze oven stuffer roaster I don't know, but my mother swore that's the only thing that could have happened because there was no evidence whatsoever left behind, not even a drop of water. The chicken had simply been spirited away. It could have been a segment on Unsolved Mysteries.

For a long time we told the story about the chicken that had just gone and poof, disappeared. We imagined the entire crime scene. My mother thought maybe she had accidentally left the door unlocked, someone had wandered in, found the chicken and thought it might make a nice dinner and so had ignored the TV, the stereo, the Lladro figurines of children in their pajamas and had just taken the chicken and left.

A couple months later my parents were upstairs (the pink house was two stories) lying in bed when they heard a terrific row going on under the bed. The dogs were growling.


My mother told them to shut up.


"God dammit why are the dogs fighting under the bed in the middle of the night?" my mother asked.

Then she heard the cat getting in on the action and hissing at the dogs who both growled back.

For an hour this went on:




Until my mother had had enough of their nonsense and decided to once and for all see what the hell was going on under the bed and put a stop to it so she could sleep.

All three animals were under the bed huddled together and clearly not getting along and involved in a serious power struggle over a mysterious object that apparently held great value to each of them.

It was the chicken.

Except it no longer resembled the chicken that had once thawed in the sink. It was a clean, white chicken carcass - a dry, smooth collection of bones. Toots was licking the spine, and it was so old and dried up that it couldn't possibly have even had any taste left, and Gaga was holding steady to one of the wings and trying to pull it away from Toots. Purrma, the cat, had one white paw claiming the bones that had once framed the cavity. None of them wanted to let go. And really when I tell you that this chicken was licked clean and dried up and couldn't possibly have had a speck of flavor remaining, I mean it. This thing looked like something you'd find in the middle of Death Valley.

My mother got the broom and shooed all the animals out from under the bed and then she used the broom to drag out the chicken carcass. Mysteriously and troublingly missing was the chicken's original vaccuum sealed plastic wrapper. Had they eaten that too? My mother disposed of the chicken carcass while all three animals gave her the stink eye for taking away something that had obviously provided them much joy over the past couple months. She had really rained on their parade.

In the morning we tried to figure out what had happened and we tried to mentally reconstruct the crime scene. How could this possibly have happened. It had to have been an elaborate, premeditated scheme on the animals' parts. We figured the dogs probably told the cat to get the chicken down and the cat jumped up onto the kitchen counter and got into the sink, but how had she managed to push a frozen chicken that weighed nearly as much as she did, out of the sink and onto the floor? After that how had two small dogs, who were smaller than the chicken mind you, dragged the chicken up a flight of stairs? And of course, where was the plastic wrapper? Worse yet, how had all this gone on for over two months right under our very noses without any of us finding any evidence? What kind of animals were we living with who would be capable of such a complicated deception?

Many questions remain. All three pets have since died, taking the secret of what really happened on the day the chicken disappeared, with them. We may never know the answers to our questions. Did they hide it downstairs and wait until it thawed to tear it open? Had they all at least gotten to eat some? How had a little kitty gotten a big Perdue chicken out of a sink and onto the floor? Had they licked up the trail of water it must have left? Did they hide the chicken somewhere downstairs until they had eaten enough of it to make it light enough to haul upstairs where a fight had then broken out over it? Most of all, over the years I've asked myself, how the hell did we not smell it? Surely it would have stunk, right? But it didn't.


Anonymous said...

Cats and dogs can do some amazing things for food - especially forbidden food, especially chicken. My cat used to move furniture - whole chairs, mind you - to get at some chicken. They're stronger than you think. They're also craftier. However, I have never in my life heard of two dogs and a cat working together to get a chicken. That takes some chutzpah.

Anonymous said...

The very strange thing about this story is that when I did find the chicken it was not missing even one bone. It was in perfect condition just clean as if it never had a drop of meat on it. This is why there was NO smell at all. I don't know how this is possible but one of the dogs or all of them together were very methodical. Were they all Virgos? It looked like something you would buy from a science store for a school project. Animals never cease to amaze me. Have a good day at school!

Sarah663 said...

Long time reader, but with this post I HAD to comment! I am laughing out loud in my cubicle! Don't you love animals?!? Thanks for your writing, keep it up!

Sinclair said...

The smell... that's exactly what I thought of first, the stinking smell of a chicken going bad under the bed :)

Yikes, they must have been pretty hungry and ate it very fast.

BTW you are not writing bad at all. Your 4 inches penis story had me very entertained, and yes, I took the ruler out too!!!

Jean/Phoenix said...

I wish you well with all of the weather that is coming your way. Great story - thank you, as always.

Anonymous said...

The cat began by ripping the plastic, where it drained in the sink. The dogs were watching and making noise which powered the cat in a frenzy to pull off chunks of meat and choke them down, reducing the weight of the bird. The watching dogs began making all kinds of noises, prompting the cat to grab it out of the sink and carry it off. The plastic was a fun play thing for the cat until, someone sucked it up in the sweeper from under the couch; they wondered what they had sucked up and felt they didn't care enough to open the bag and look. Then the cat feeling it was safely hidden, took an enormous nap in the sunshine because he was stuffed. The dogs waiting for that nap knew it would happen, waited. Together the dogs pulled hunks of the chicken apart and feasted until stuffed and went to sleep. Later the cat woke up and hauled what was left of the light weight carcass upstairs and hiding it under the bed. Then they all found it and fought for the rights of the bones!

Laurie said...

that was FRIKKEN hilarious. thanks!

TK said...

Damn that was funny!
Poms and Yorkies are half cat so it doesn't surprise me that they all feasted on the chicken and maybe worked together, but I think Anonymous2 scoped it out pretty well! How it didn't smell at some point at least in the first 12 hours though, even with the 3 of them feasting on it, I dunno. It seems there would have been some smelly spots on the carpet. If there were a lot of other masking scents in the house (like a cat box!), depending on where the chicken was hidden it would be (obviously it seems) possible.

Funnier than stuffing tp up a chicken's rear, that's just really disturbed.

saintseester said...

I want to know what happened to the bag of giblets that had to be in there somewhere.

Chiada said...

I guess this shows what hidden powers animals can have when it comes to something tasty.

We had a chihuahua once that could scramble/jump up the side of a six foot tall fence and jump down the other side of it.

Maybe one of your dogs scrambled up the counter using the drawer pulls as foot ledges?

Anonymous said...

In regards to your hurricane long as you don't see Jim Cantore you should be fine. I'm sitting through Hanna right now and good old Jim is about 30 miles north of me. I always judge how bad it's going to be by how close he is.

Dayna said...

OMG that is the funny story ever.

Did it not stink, they must have cleaned that carcass up in a hurry.

Mel said...

When cats find a big chunk of food in the open they instinctively want to hide it. They can carry off items that weigh nearly as much as they do. There is a video on Youtube somewhere from Japan, where they test this theory with progressively bigger fish left in a yard. I think one managed to cart off a 2kg fish. (Found it!

Anyway, my theory is the cat found it, ripped the wrapper to drain the juice (that wasn't the plan, it just happened with the ripping). Meanwhile the dogs have caught on that there is something great up there. So the cat wants to hide it. The cat tenaciously drags it out of the sink, hisses the dogs away, drags it upstairs with the wrapper still on (no wet marks, or fewer). Gets it under the bed, eats his fill, then the dogs take their turn.

I don't think it would smell for maybe 2 or 3 days, plus if there was a dust ruffle on the bed it would keep some of the smell contained. And small animals can eat a lot.

Anonymous said...

Oh My God! Wide Lawns, you gave me two belly laughs in a row! I just started reading your blog just a couple of weeks ago and you, dear, are very entertaining! Keep on writing the good stuff! (Everybody needs a good laugh once in a while!)

Anonymous said...

I made the mistake of reading this at work, now the boss wants to know why I'm laughing and crying and holding my sides.

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