Monday, April 21, 2008

My Kingdom For A Screwdriver

An actual screwdriver, not that drink with orange juice and vodka. I am not a drinkin' woman, and besides, orange was acidic the last time I checked, and it gives me heartburn.

I need a screwdriver because HH has a screw loose.

The boys and I arrived home around 5:15, after getting the shaggy #1 son a haircut, and picking up medicine for The Pony and me. There went HH, scooting across the front yard in his little red Scout. And it looked like he had a passenger. #1 said it was The Veteran. I didn't think so. There was no evidence of The Veteran's truck at the Mansion or the BARn. So I sent the boy running after the Scout to check out the scam. He returned to say that it was NOT The Veteran, but a man. A man HH introduced as our neighbor. We only have two actual neighbors. The one next door we have known for 15 years. The new one across the road who bought The LandStealer's place was here last week. The boy described him as "Kind of a homeless-looking man, without a shirt, driving a lawnmower and smoking a cigarette." Uh huh. Those Seinfeld characters have nothing on us. We can spin a description as colorful as 'Humpty Dumpty with a melon head' and 'Big wall of hair, face like a frying pan' and 'Horse face, flaring nostrils'.

No, this visitor was neither neighbor. The more the boy described him, the more I just KNEW it was The Shootist. Yeah. HH brought his sworn enemy to tour the Mansion grounds. The guy who got locked up overnight and had to post bond and hire a lawyer. The guy who threatened to shoot HH, and it ended up costing him $1500. Or $2500. I forget. I hope HE has.

Too bad the only screwdrivers are in the possession of HH.

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