The Epitome of Stupidity!

I’ve stooped to a new level! low! I am the epitome of stupidity! I’ve been so bold as to tell Les, (my well-meaning but somewhat overbearing husband, who lives in a state bordering the one where I live), the reason I like it when he’s gone. It’s because I can sit around a clean house and watch whatever I want on TV. Well, he’s in Wyoming watching a scary movie and insisting I watch it with him here in Salt Lake! And I’m doing it!

Now, you must have some background. I’m the most chicken shit person on the planet when it comes to watching scary movies. I deal with the occasional required scary movie in several ways. I tolerate them, hide my eyes and pretend to be watching them, watch them with one eye closed through fingers clamped over my eyes, avoid them altogether, and wish away even the trailers about them. And Les watches every horror movie ever produced, several times.

To his credit, he tries to be good-humored about his coercion. Since he can’t really insist I watch the movie he’s watching, while we’re located in separate states, he’s created a new category of “sluggo” for the occasion. It’s “chicken shit sluggo,” similar to the standard game, but vastly more humiliating for the chicken. I just learned a reenactment of the movie’s climactic scene is in my future. I can’t wait until he gets home.

Speaking of chickens, I must relate this year’s deer hunting story. (Don’t mistake this for revenge. He’ll get what’s coming to him later.)

Les was returning from his hunting trip and the weather turned bad. It was nearly dusk when he saw a worthy buck and went after him. He drove his 4-wheeler down into a ravine tracking the deer. Big fluffy flakes of snow were falling and the headlight bounced odd images and reflections off the trees and hillside.

Just as he was getting off the machine, he was hit from behind by something that startled him so badly he, (in his own words), “screamed like a girl.” Upon gathering his faculties, and assessing the situation, he discovered he had been ambushed by three Sandhill Cranes! (I’m not kidding.) Two off the near 5 foot tall birds had landed in the nearby clearing, while the ring-leader proceeded to register his (or her) dissatisfaction by doing a hopping, pecking, dance-like thing right in Les’ face.

The initial blow was between the shoulder blades and Les countered with a right cross, which the cagey bird dodged. Feeling like he’d been sucker-punched by a ghost, he immediately prepared for fight or flight and since he lacked flying equipment, he was ready to punch it out with Big Bird’s little brother. I’m not sure of the length of the encounter but I was near rolling on the floor and holding my sides while Les was breathlessly relaying the incident via cell phone. His climactic statement, just before giving up on me ever taking this insult seriously, was, “Do you know how hard you have to kick a bird to make it leave you alone? I kicked that sucker harder than I’ve ever kicked a huntin’ dog.”

I guess the point of this rambling story, is that everyone is a chicken in front of something.