Subject: Manse Diaries: Four Horsefeathers of the Apocalypse

Date: 16 Apr 1998 00:00:00 GMT

From: (MegaLiz)

Organization: MotPU: Where Binary Moodswings are ALWAYS on the Menu

Newsgroups: alt.foot.fat-free, alt.slack






It's nearly time to renew the advertising for my Jeep. I'm thinking of

adding a headline like "Cheap! Cheap! Bird Magnet of the End Times!"


I was beginning to get on the sad side of depressed about the sale.

The nice mommy person decided NOT to surrender the cookie jar to me,

and Wahmir the Cars-4-Cash man is playing coquette. I suspect that he

would pay more than that rude sales weasel at Polite Pontiac 'n' Jeep

'n' Stuff, but it's just a delusional hunch so far.


Delusions and car washes are all I have to go on these days. It will

just have to be ENOUGH.


A mere two weeks after Number Six was discovered cowering on the hood

of the Jeep, we had another bizarre discovery. Little Bubba Junior

came aknocking yesterday morning, looking very excited.


"What's the matter, Little Bubba Junior?" I asked, as I opened the

door. I had Bobo on my hip and pushed the dog back with my knee,

simultaneously attempting to banish Spunky from the hall. She was

naked, and the little neighbor kids seem to get downright WORRIED

whenever they see her like that. (Drooling and/or naked tiny mutants

elicit tremendous fear in small humans, as a rule. Don't ask me WHY).

Spunky understands this perfectly, and will strip down to her skin

readily with this very effect in mind.


"Come OUT!" Commanded Little Bubba, "There's a BIRD in your CAR!"


Peering at the Jeep, I was able to confirm his diagnosis right away. A

largish bird was repeatedly bashing itself against the windshield from

the inside.


"It's an ORIOLE!" announced Mickey.


"Shut up," said Little Bubba, "It is NOT an Oriole."


"Can I KEEP it?" asked Jimbo.


"Shut up," said Little Bubba, "It's NOT a PET."


"Are you gonna keep it?" asked Jimbo. "I mean, if you don't want it, I

want it. Besides, you ALREADY have a bird!"


"Shut UP," said Little Bubba, helpfully.


I opened the passenger side door, and told them that it was a ROBIN,

and that I was not going to keep it or catch it or give it away. The

robin was frantic to the extent that its little black eyes seemed to

protrude from its fluffy little head. It continued to throw itself at

the glass in spite of my help. Moving to the driver's side, I said,

"Boo," under my breath, and it grew a tiny clue in its bird brain and

darted out of the open door and flew straight up. That bird was far

too fast to be injured.


Now I am known as The Bird Lady and my Jeep is fulla shit. Ah, SLACK.




"Is it just me...or do I have tape in my hair?" - Spunky