Saturday, July 21, 2007

Nuclear Reckless Accident Devilment

Ho hum. I spent a lazy afternoon watching nuclear annihilation with my boys. Now that's quality time, by cracky! We watched The Day After, which scared the bejesus out of me the first time I ever saw it. Probably something about living in western Missouri at the time, and seeing those missile silos in the cornfields while driving up and down Hwy 71.

We soon tired of watching people die slowly of radiation sickness, so #1 son and I drove to town to mail some bills and buy Powerball tickets and shop at Save-A-Lot. We might have been safer staying home and taking our chances with radiation sickness. The roads were treacherous. Not so much the roads as the other people driving on my side. Three separate autos tried to kill me. First was a pickup towing a trailer with a four-wheeler, which came over the center line just before we reached the local prison. Sweet Gummi Mary, you would have thought there was a prison break or something. Oh, and next was a city police car that almost nailed me in front of the mushroom factory, what with barreling over the crest of the hill totally in my lane. Note to self, Coppers: People on the other side of the hill can't see me to get out of the way, and can't hear my siren until I crest the hill, especially if they are car-singing instead of listening for my siren because they have never seen a police chase from our police department, only minorities pulled over alongside the road near the prison. The third was on the way home, on our blacktop county road, another roving hillcrester in a black pickup pulling a stock car on a trailer. C'mon, people. Even Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, in her armored LSUV, knows that you must stay on your own side going over a hill. Methinks The Devil has been working in mysterious ways. Overtime. We left him lying face down under a cedar tree with a broken top from the last ice storm, near HH's truck that is too big for the garage.

The boys have both been mysteriously injured by inanimate objects within the confines of the Mansion. Young #2 son came ponying up the basement stairs, and blew out his flip-flop. Without even any margaritas in sight, doggone it. He tripped on the top step, and whacked his left arm and wrist on the wooden stair post, leaving several scratches that welted up like cat scratches. Then, several hours later, #1 son went up the steps successfully, but in rounding the landing by the evil stair post, slipped on the welcome rug and twisted his ankle. This area is right by the front door that leads to the porch, the porch where we found The Devil in repose a few mornings ago. Shame on The Devil.

Oh, and in the Save-A-Lot, some snotty woman made a snotty comment that I think was directed at me. I had parked my cart by the frozen food bin, looking for a Fried Chicken/Corn/Mashed Potato 99-cent frozen dinner that #1 son had requested. I was the only cart on the aisle. I crossed to get a box of mini sausage biscuits from the clear-doored freezer section along the wall, and a chick who had been parked back at the end of the aisle came cruising along like Christine from the Stephen King book of the same name, except she didn't ram me, but let me get back to my cart. She parked across from my cart. I was busily digging through the dinners when a new beast sent by The Devil came wheeling down the frozen bin area towards me. She couldn't get through because of the other chick parked across from me. She kind of stood there staring, but I ignored her, because I was fishing for chicken. And I was there first, you know. So then she left her cart and huffed between us, snarking, "Can't I even walk around?" I don't know WTF she meant by that. I didn't say anything to her. I didn't even sigh and roll my eyes at her. What was her deal? She went prospecting in the frozen bin several yards away from me, in the crispy fish area. I was hoping for a bloody Deadliest Catch accident, but none was forthcoming.

I hate people. People piss me off! But I would never say anything like that. She should have driven her cart with the traffic instead of coming up the aisle the wrong way. Nobody ever goes that way. And I was there first! I didn't know she expected me to back up. She didn't say "Excuse me" or "Ahem" or anything. For all I knew, she was just staring at me because I am OH SO PRETTY.

I hope she finds The Devil on her front porch tomorrow.

4 comments:

Mean Teacher said...

Maybe one of her fish sticks will contain a stray bone. You know, the sharp kind.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Meanie,
The kind where you're supposed to roll up a wad of bread into a ball and swallow it, perhaps, believing that the bread will unroll and surround the sharp pointy bone and embrace it all the way through the digestive tract until the odd couple makes a grand exit out the back door.

Stupid old wives! They need to stop telling tales.

Redneck. Diva. said...

WalMart brings out the best in people. I instantly get a feeling of peace and harmony and deep-seated love when I walk through those automatic doors.

I have also been drinking this morning.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Diva,
I'm sure it's BEER:30 somewhere.