The Real STORY of That Trip: Part 5 ( With Some Bonus Detours)

Iced Earth—Framing Armageddon: Something Wicked Part 1

MoTW—Point Blank

Since the needle on the gas gauge was hovering a bit below the "E", I
did what any normal person would do and turned the key, hoping that this
was just a mirage like all those other mirages I happen to stumble upon
quite frequently from time to time.

Alas, alack and anon. Tis twas not a mirage for the vehicle did not
start. Nay, it just sat there like a box of dead frogs.

So I did what any other normal person would do and tapped the gas gauge
hoping that the needle would jump and stick somewhere above the "E"
proving that I did have gas which would mean that the car would start
and I would be on my way lickety-split (just like that).

Of course that was totally moronic thinking because the needle didn't
move, so there I was stuck in the middle of a busy highway like a box of
dead mice.

(Here's a funny side-story about mice. A couple months ago I saw a dead
mouse in the garage, just inside the garage door. I thought that maybe
the door had closed on the little guy and he had managed to walk a few
inches and then keeled over or maybe that I had halfway run over it when
leaving the garage and he had managed to walk a few inches…….well
you get the picture.

So i was wandering around and decided to call the woman and tell her
about the dead mouse and then asked if she could take care of it because
I like animals and she yelled and hollered about me being lazy and a
chickenshit, but she had done her duty by the time I decided to come

Earlier this week I was wandering around the garage and found another
mouse lying in the same place as the previous one. This one was also
quite dead.

So I went ahead and took off, but this time didn't call the woman
because I wasn't in the mood to be called lazy and a chickenshit,
figuring she would see it when she came home and do her duty.

Well she didn't so she couldn't.

When I decided to come home, I found the mouse was still there so I took
a shovel and broom, picked it up and placed it gently in the trash,
apologising to the little furry guy.

Today (which is Saturday for those of you keeping stats or whatever) we
went out to do some shopping and turn in some cans since that's what you
do in this fucking state.

When we got home, I noticed something stuck to the middle of the garage
door. I pointed this out to the woman and as she wondered what it was, I
noticed something that looked like a tail.

"It's a fucking mouse!" I stated with the tone and air of someone who
was an expert on things to do with stuff stuck to garage doors that
really shouldn't be stuck to said garage doors.

She stared at it for a moment and finally agreed that, yes, it was
surely a mouse.

I went ahead and used the opener and stopped the door when it was about
halfway up while she sat there making barf noises. I then calmly exited
the car and went over to my trusty shoved while she went to get the
trusty broom.

Chickenshit that I am, I held the shovel out with eyes looking downwards
until I felt it touch the garage and she used the broom to sweep the
thing off. However, the mouse somehow missed the shovel and hit the
driveway with a tiny furry "splonk" sound which made the woman screech.

With eyes looking elsewhere but down now, I put the shovel on the
pavement and she swept it in. I carried it over to the garbage bin,
apologised to the mouse, and gently placed it inside.

So, either we have a mouse problem or those fucking boy scouts that came
around last week looking for cans left me a warning message on the
garage door because I lied when I told them we didn't have any cans to
help out with their drive. What a bunch of assholes.)

As I sat there thinking what I could do with my predicament, along came
an old pickup truck loaded with stacks and stacks of chicken coops full
of, well, chickens of course.

The truck stopped next to me on this busy highway and the driver's side
window rolled down.

(Now for a side statement of pure fact: Next Saturday, which is 11/24
for those taking notes, is my birthday. Remember that and send me

The oldest man I have ever seen in my life poked his head out the

"Bit of trouble son?"

"Why yes, old man. I have run out of gas. How oh how can you help me?"

He scratched his chin like really old people do since that's how they do
their thinking.

"Well," he finally said after lots and lots of scratching, "I do have a
hose and a full tank of gas. Guess I could spare a bit."

"Oh gee. Really? Do you really, really, REALLY think you could?"

With that he reached down and picked up something which I soon found out
was a shotgun which was now pointed at my head.

COMING NEXT: A shotgun? Oh gee, that sounds pretty bad!

Stephen Johnson

The idea of building a website with Bob came from Stephen in the days of message boards and chat rooms. We settled on the name and the rest is history. Retired since he hit the ripe age of 25, he spends most his time doing odd-jobs around the house and digging thru trash bins for "stuff that's still good." Stephen has contributed several short stories and hosted the "Lunatic Ravings" column since the beginning (1999). The idea of writing weekly columns came from Stephen before blogs or blog sites ever existed. So, I guess that makes him THE FIRST BLOGGER IN THE WORLD!!!

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