Smokey Mountain Breakdown

They arrived shortly after I had discovered the Christmas morning “ugliness”, clattering up my driveway in their GMC Yukon XL Denali - black Hummer – Red Claptrap of Death. I was just about to remove the body when they stopped me.

“Step away from the crime scene, Ma’am.”

“Uhhh,” I said as I was about to remove the mangled corpse from my backyard, “It’s a goose.”

“We’ll be the judge of that.” They said, swarming my yard carrying their black investigation bags – fingerprint kits – plucking equipment.

One of them sat down with me to go over the facts of the case and take my statement.

“Well, I let the dogs out early this morning and went back to bed. When I came back down, the goose was laying there, as you see him now. The trail of feathers shows that he was well into the yard when the attack occurred.”

The investigator took some notes and asked, “Do you have any idea who would do such a thing?”

I looked at him like he was crazy. The other members of the GF-CSI team were busily measuring the trail of feathers, stringing up crime scene tape and the coroner was treating the dead goose with way more respect than it deserved.

“Hell, yes!” I said, “The brown cocker spaniel with the feathers all over his mouth. He said he didn’t do it, but I know better.”

The investigator looked over at Max who was frantically signaling me with his topaz eyes. He tried to sneeze some goose down from his nose.

“You mean that one over there?” He asked.

“Uhhh…well yes…he’s the only chocolate cocker spaniel I have.”

“Why did he do it? Do you know?”

“Look, you can’t blame the dog,” I said in Max’s defense, “That goose has been torturing that dog for months! I gots pictures!”

“Alrighty then.” The investigator concluded. “Looks like we got us a case of justifiable goosicide.”

The investigators started to leave and the coroner started to walk away with the goose.

“Hey!” I hollered, “Where you going with that?”

“Oh,” the coroner said, shifting his eyes around, “I’m taking it to the Morgue – Volunteer Fire Department Kitchen.”

“Oh no you ain’t!” I said, taking the goose away from him. “We weren’t planning on no Christmas goose, but it looks like we got one just the same!.”

Max wagged his tail nub in anticipation.

So...I'm driving down The Old 15th this past week, a long one lane road that they are very gradually blacktopping, and I come across a loose horse.

I believe I recognize the horse and decide I will try to gently nudge him back home with the jeep. I'm not sure why I thought I could do this...it would have worked with my horses that I had these many years ago. Of course my horses just galloped around like crazy things every time they got out. This guy was just placidly munching on the verge with his butt sticking out in the road. And anyone who has spent any time at all around horses knows the butt end is the one to watch. So, I eased the jeep forward a bit and rolled the window down.

"Hooo...Horse!" I called. "Giddup!"

This is the point at which most horses would snort at you and take off trotting in the opposite direction. But Horse had different ideas. He turns around and affectionately starts nuzzling the hood of the jeep, planting himself firmly in front of the vehicle.

At this point, a car comes up behind me...on this remote stretch of country road. And there I am with Horse completely blocking the road. I get out and pet him and kindly ask him to move to the side of the road.

Horse blows me a raspberry and affectionately rubs horse snot all over my t-shirt.

I weakly shout back to the car behind me, "I can't get him to move!"

Never mind that I've sort of caused this predicament by misguidedly trying to get Horse to move down the road in the first place.

Horse is very good natured about all this though, and allows me to sort of shove him over a bit.

So I get back in the jeep and Horse follows me and puts his entire head in the open car window. He seems to want a sandwich or something.

Meanwhile, I'm imagining the driver behind me gradually working himself into the rural version of road rage.

I give Horse a few hearty pats of the sort horses enjoy then give him a good-natured shove. I'm finally able to navigate the jeep around him though not giving the hind end as wide a berth as I'd like to.

As I look behind me in the rear view window I see Horse wistfully watching my jeep escape.

And I wonder what other hapless traveler he's going to hit up for a sandwich before the sun finally sets.

As you all know, I am a liberal Democrat. I make no secret of that and believe strongly in the practice of tolerance, freedom of speech and all that jazz. At heart...I carry around all of the liberal trappings and mannerisms. It's true, I do.

Including keeping my car radio pretty much super-glued to NPR. Well, I was driving down the interstate on my way to Newport while winding around the scenic mountain passes that are my commute, when I choose to make it. Today I was off to the library to return my books and do a bit of research for a few pieces I have in the writing mill.

Anyway, my favorite radio station had a classical selection playing that I wasn't quite up to so I decided to play it dangerously and hit the search button.

It took me to Rush Limbaugh broadcasting from Andersonville, TN. Well, my gag reflex was feeling a bit sluggish so I didn't wreck the jeep trying to change the channel. And as I drove, I listened to how I was trying to destroy America and what a big liar I was.

Honestly...I wasn't bothered at all. It just slid right off the fat part of my back. I was really proud of myself. I seem to have overcome that annoying habit of screaming back at the idiot pundits on the radio and television.

But then he committed a most foul heresy. He started plugging Maple Bacon flavored coffee.

"For heaven's sake, man!" I screamed. "How many tons of pulverized oxycontin do you have to shove up your nose to think caffeinated pork is a good idea!"

I just completely lost it at that point. My gag reflex seemed to make a full recovery. I am deeply and profoundly offended.

I'm a huge fan of all things coffee and all things bacon. I'm not one of those culinary ideologues who insist that my peas not touch my carrots. But this is an abomination. Truly, it is.

I'm just saying...if we start swilling pork flavored coffee...the terrorists have freakin' won, folks.