Thursday, June 13, 2013

Not Exactly the Stealth Model

This is a true story, unlike many of the other things I’ve posted, this did actually happen. I’m even pretty sure it wasn’t a hallucination. I mean, I know the duck’s a hallucination, but he assures me that this wasn’t and who am I to doubt a hallucinatory duck?

Besides, the duck’s been good to me. Not like that *#%*#(!-ing rabbit.

Last weekend, I decided to take a walk. It was a nice day, sunny with a little breeze, and there’s a park with a walking/running trail just down the street. So I slipped into something more comfortable than the usual mail hauberk I wear at home and headed out. 

It was fairly busy, with lots of runners and walkers on the path and I was nearing the end of my walk when I turned a corner and saw a young couple a couple hundred feet ahead of me. They were walking hand-in-hand in the same direction I was and being generally cute, what with the leaning into each other and chatting and whatnot.

It was a nice scene. A young couple walking hand-in-hand along a trail, green grass around them, the sun high in a cloudless sky.  It was so wholesome Norman Rockwell could have painted it. It made even my black and bitter heart quiver, even though I keep it in a jar back home.

So, I’m walking along, gaining ground on this couple, because I walk really, really fast (seriously, ask anyone). Joggers are passing us, along with the occasional walker approaching from the opposite direction. They all pass the couple, who move a little to let them by. It’s all very, very normal. Nothing weird or amiss going on.

I get to about five yards behind them and step on a leaf or branch or something, causing the young woman to glance over her shoulder. Now, I’m not exactly the stealth model, so it’s not like I was sneaking up on them. I’m just walking along normally. 

Now, as I said, the young lady glances over her shoulder at me, and then moves completely to the left, pressing up against her boyfriend, leaving about ¾ of the trail open. She hasn’t done this with any of the other half-dozen people who’ve gone by.

I pass them after a minute or so. As I go by, dead silence. I get to about a dozen yards ahead of them and idly glance back, to see her move back to where she had been. They start talking again.

I literally said ‘Am I that scary?’ to myself.

It was kind of weird. I mean, I don’t think I’m a scary person. I did yell ‘Farfegnugen!’ at some ducks, but that’s the polite thing to do. I even left my machete in the car. I kind of wanted to slow down and let them catch up so I could say something nonchalant like ‘my, it’s a nice day for not strangling people!’ or something else to demonstrate that I was, in fact, not going to strangle them.

I dunno. Perhaps all these years of fighting ninjas have left their mark. Maybe her uncle was a ninja and he used to tell her stories of a burly, non-stealthy, fast-walking guy that beat him up on a regular basis. Maybe I just smell really, really bad (it’s possible). 

Then again, I was wearing my ‘Thumbs Up for Mindless Violence!’ t-shirt, so maybe that had something to do with it.


Thursday, June 6, 2013


There was a wasp inside my apartment when I got home today. It was rather large and menacing in the way that wasps tend to be and the funny thing is, I have NO clue how it got in. I only noticed it because it was making a ‘tick’ sound when it was flying around.

My first hypothesis, that someone, maybe Vikings, had planted a very small bomb proved incorrect. It was only when I saw it circling my TV that I realized what it actually was.

As I mentioned, this thing was huge. It was a good inch long, not counting the knife and it looked kind of like a little yellow and black Apache helicopter. I, of course, captured it and subjected it to interrogation.

I mainly wanted to know how it got in. There are no wasp-sized holes in my apartment that I didn’t make myself, so that suggests it came in through either a window or a door.  So I focused my questioning in that area, hoping that it wouldn’t tell me that wasps had figured out how to work door handles.

Now, I’m not afraid of wasps in a screaming and pointing way. It’s more of a respect. Respect in that they will not just bite you, but they will go get all of their friends and relatives to come back and help them do it. I was bitten by a wasp once and that was a fairly serious ‘owie,’ as the professionals say, so I have no desire to be bitten by lots of them. Repeatedly. All over my body.

NOTE: I know for a fact that all branches of the Special Forces refer to injuries as ‘owies.’ Seriously. An actual Green Beret told me that. Granted, it might have been a hallucination, considering that he was also a chicken. A six foot chicken. Wearing a beret. . . . . you know, in hindsight, let’s just forget that I mentioned anything about that.

Anyway, the wasp proved a tough customer and refused to talk. I even threatened to turn it over to some bees I knew, but that didn’t seem to phase it. In the end, I decided to let it go.

“Fly away!” I said, in a commanding voice as I let it out of the glass. “Fly and tell your wasp friends that doom will come to their nest should they dare to cross my threshold again!” And then I did my best evil laugh.

I then watched it fly away, past my neighbor, who was staring at me and clutching a small yippy-type dog.
“Wasps are like Klingons,” I explained. “You have to threaten them or they won’t respect you.”

I’m sure she agreed, as she ran inside and slammed the door shut, presumably to tell all her friends about the cool guy she just talked to.

Yeah, I presume a lot.