Binge Marathon Sundays 5/4c
Funny what a day can do. Thought I’d be taking a break from this blog thing for a while, but when you’re cock of the walk, you just gotta crow. You don’t argue with the wind when it’s blowing your way.
Ding, dong, the wicked witch is definitely dead. If you watch the news, you know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, go Google “nursing home” and “blows the hell up” and you’ll see what I mean. And who has two thumbs and was the only one without his head up his ass about a certain criminal/fast-food magnate? THIS guy. I know; I’m gloating and it’s bad form. I don’t even care. If you’re the guy who everyone thinks is crying wolf, it feels damn good when a big hairy wolf shows up and bites everyone right in the face. Damn good.
Well, mostly. I mean, yeah, right now my office is all lined up to kiss my white ass, but I have to admit it’s not sitting like I thought it would. I thought it’d be like getting one of those astronaut parades when you come back from the moon, but it doesn’t feel quite like that. I don’t know what it is.
I went to see what the man left behind. His “legacy.” What a joke. His precious lab’s a smoking hole in the ground. Slag and rubble. A total waste. Stood in his shitty manager’s office when they boxed up the junk he left behind. His laptop–I think even I’ve got a better computer and I’ve got a government job. A couple pictures. Just…junk. So where’s all the money? What did he do it for? Damned if I know.
But that’s not what’s bugging me, I think. It’s like: one time when I was a kid, this family of skunks burrowed under our house. Sprayed our dog when he went nosing around and the whole house stank to holy hell for weeks. It got into everything: made my schoolbooks smell, my clothes, the carpet–everything that stink could stick to, stank like skunk. And my old man, he had it out for those skunks. Hated them. I mean, everyone hates skunks, right? But it was different for him. The smell made him crazy. Made him get mean. He just grumbled about it like they’d targeted him. Like it was personal.
He set nasty-looking coyote traps out, poisons, you name it. The worst was he was planning to fill the hole with cement…while they were in it. He had the quick-pour cement mix ready to go. He was gonna wait up all night and watch till he was sure they were all in and then mix it and pour it down and kill them all. But he never got the chance to. The big one, I guess the mother, showed up hit by a car on the side of the road. The little ones amscrayed right after. Poof. Gone. Out looking for their mom, maybe? I dunno. I’m not a skunk scientist. Anyway, after that, I could see my Dad felt kinda bad about it. Not sad, exactly, but it just didn’t all go down the way he wanted it to.
Maybe I feel a little like that. Don’t get me wrong. My guy, he was a piece of filth who got what he deserved. There’s a special hell set aside for guys like that, and he’s frying there now. I can’t say a single good word about the man as a man. But it’s like watching Caddyshack and you think: what if Bill Murray killed that gopher? Blew him all the way to kingdom come at the end. What then? I don’t know. It just seems like that’d be a different movie, and not as funny.