Friday, February 13, 2009

Do You Believe In Omens?

Today was Friday the 13th. Don't worry. HM has no issues with triscadecaphobia. Nor does she believe in omens. Much.

First black cat out of the bag, just past the lake, in a somewhat richie neighborhood on the back way to school, we saw him. Santa face down in a pile of garbage! (That was going to be my title, but it seemed a bit harsh). He was about the size of a 2-year-old, only not so pink and plump and lively. Santa was a thin version, made of some felt-ish material, all bright red and white. There he lay, floppily, face down, over three black garbage bags. Hefty, perhaps. It was a somewhat richie neighborhood. Oh, the horror. SANTA, face down, in a pile of garbage. There's a special place at the South Pole for the mangy scoundrel who bent Santa over the black garbage bags of despair.

We chuckled nervously at Santa's fate, and sped on. School waits for no Hillbilly. Cruising past Newmentia, after dumping the #1 son off at Basementia like an unwanted Santa, I heard The Pony speak up. "There's that giant rat again." That jolted me out of Bob Seger land on the XM. "What? What rat?" I looked back at Newmentia, and caught it out of the corner of my eye. It was Rudy Giuliani, the inflatable rat version! Remember, the one that showed up at the new bowling alley construction?

Rudy cooled his paws on the back parking lot for a while. I don't know if he was removed. I'm hoping he was, because a student parking lot is no place for a union. That's just wrong. I do know the proper parties were notified, but I have enough work controlling the rats on the INSIDE of the building to worry about what Rudy is up to outside.

Completing the Bad Omen Trilogy was this little jewel on the front porch when we arrived home.

No need to squint. It's just a head. A severed squirrel head. Nothing out of the ordinary for the Hillbilly Mansion porch.

Don't hate me because I lead such a doomed life. Hate me because I know why the trashed Santa sighs.


Chickadee said...

LMAO!!! OMG...I don't know what's more disturbing...the sight of the squirrel head on your porch or me laughing at the fate of the trashed santa.

Hope your evening was uneventful. :P

Hillbilly Mom said...

Santa thanks you for the sympathy. The evening WAS uneventful. However...

First thing this morning, on the way to the garage, we found the squirrel-chewer with a squirrel torso in her mouth. Yep. Head and legs gone, just the torso. Next to her was a suspicious mass of feathers. The Pony shouted, "Hey! That looks like the feathers from the dead chicken!" Apparently, a shepherd mix can climb a brush pile when a dead chicken is the reward.