Neanderpundit

Ever have one on the way, and know it’s going to be a doozy? A rocket propelled crap of such volume and proportion as to leave the bowl’s porcelean etched with the imprint of it’s passing?

I had one of those. It was on it’s way. It was going to come along like a freight train, and if I didn’t hang on,I was gonna be swept along in the tide. I completely disrobed because I knew there was a shower at the end of this movement, no question.

So I plant my ass on the throne, toes clamped around the base of the john for support, leaning hard against the edge of the bathtub, prepared to grab onto the sink for support if need be.

And I loosened those special muscles, preparing myself mentally for the gates of hell itself to be unleashed. And then the noise came.

“Poit”

WHAT?????

One solitary, sturdy turd, not much bigger than a grape, had shot out and made an armstand back double-somersault with one and a half twists, and entered the water as cleanly as a knife.

And nothing else came.

I squeezed, I groaned, I lifted my right leg up over my lap and bent down to eject the rest of the movement I just knew was there, based on the gut rumbles I’d had before. What was this about? Why would I have such warning bells and whistles for one measly turd?

My disapointment knows no bounds. Now I have to drink a gallon of coffee and eat a bigass bran muffin. I will shif if it kills me- which it might.

Does anyone out there know the requirements for nomination for this beast? Here’s a part:

“shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses.”

The nobel peace prize is the kiss of death. Anyone who receives this award should be shunned, and perhaps shot. The morons who award it should be broken on a wheel, and the idiots who nominate for it should be hanged.

Thatisall.

over a largish deer. Well, not large in the conventional sense, just… well, fat. Kinda scrawny horns. I look up, and there’s another buck, this one a bit healthier looking, staring straight at me.

“You, er, you gonna be using that can of spray?” the buck says, a hoof pointing at the can of Deepwoods Off in my fanny pack.

“Erm,….. no? ”
“Would you mind spraying some across my face? Yeah, just there. I’ll close my eyes, ok?”
“Um, sure” I spray the deer’s face, he snorts a little then says “the ears too, please” I hit the ears and he turns around.

“A little around the family jewels, if you don’t mind, and yeah, up there, yep. Thanks”
“No… er, no problem” I stammer. “I hope there’s no hard feelings- I mean, I shot your friend”
“yeah, about that. He wasn’t hardly anyone’s friend, really. He was always talking about how good he was, how much smarter, how he could figure anything out. He walked out in the zone after I pointed you out. he was like, all “That guy’s from Indiana. he probably moves his lips when he reads”. SO not a big deal. “

“Okay, thanks. You want the rest of the can?”
“I would, but no pockets, you know?”

“I could just leave it here. You could have someone push down on the top”
“That would be great. And hey, thanks. And while I’m thinking about it, stay away from that liver, he abused it a lot”

“cool. Um, couild I ask you a question?”
“SUre”
“When is the rut? What actually controls it?”
“Skeeters and deer ticks.”
“What?”
“We have only a few areas where we’re vulnerable to mosquitoes and ticks, and you can guess where they are. Can you think of sex while mosquitoes are biting your nose, eyes, and balls?”
“I guess not. Thanks. You know I’m gonna be looking for you in two weeks, during firearm season”
“Yeah. But I’ll get some fucking in before then”

“Seeya!”

And then the alarm clock got to me, and I had to hit the road.
Man, I gotta lay off the chili cheese dogs.

172 permits issued yesterday at Kingsbury, one deer taken. In the old classic indiana method:with a pickup truck.