Thursday, January 8, 2009

a spook, I tells ya

Yesterday in a vain attempt to burn maybe 35 calories, I asked Brandon if he wanted to go for a walk after work. When formulating this sentence it occured to me that I should try to think of a more exciting way to get exercise, and immediately I sprung (heh heh) upon the notion that 45 minutes of strenous sex per day might fit the bill. And that's possible right? I mean, I am IN A RELATIONSHIP. But I digress.

Anywho, I asked him to go for a walk, and he said yes, can we cross Parkway (whichever Parkway it is, those roads are a COMPLETE mindfuck to this ol' girl) and try to gain entrance to Libertyland? and although I'm the type of person who is stricken with terror at the concept of rule-breaking, I reminded myself that this is one of the reasons that I liked this dude to begin with, and remember that time that we were in the mountains and gained entrance to the funhouse of mirrors cash-free by merely running in the out door, and giggled and gasped and lost ourselves in corridors of mirrors? wasn't love young and fun then, and nothing bad happened at all, sissypants! buckup!

So we trotted down the broken sidewalks and he told me about his first day of master gardener school, which was funny because 1) a lady introduced herself by sharing that she had been fired from her job and she'd had to put her dog down, which is not funny in inself, of course, but is funny because who in the world would choose to introduce themselves to a room of fifty people in that fashion? I'd rather say, "Hi, my name's Amanda, and I like to read and watch movies." and b) a man got rounds of applause and tears by merely stating that he was an Iraq war veteran. maybe that's not funny or weird at all but we're commie bastards so we marvelled at it together.

We approach the Libertyland and in case you don't know or didn't click my helpful link above, it's an abandoned amusement park. THEREFORE VERY CREEPY. In my corduroy jeans and checkered vans, walking along with Brandon, who seems to be dressed eternally these days in a red zippered hoodie, I felt as if I was walking into an episode of Scooby Doo which had been deanimated (in some type of exhaustive computer editing process, I'm sure). There was a gap in the fence in the back that made Brandon suck his breath in in excitement and made me do the same in the terror & dread that in order to avoid looking like a pussy I'd have to wriggle in after him. He thought I'd be a chicken, and was happy and proud when I wasn't. We both had the big eye because IT WAS VERY CREEPY IN THERE. My mind immediately created a scenario in which a squatter with the same face/personality/soul as the leper hobo who lives under the porch in the abandoned house in Stephen King's IT who offers Eddie Kaspbrak a blowjob. Unless I've got some part of that wrong. Maybe he wants a blowjob. It's been a few years since I read IT. I thought he'd amble out and offer us blowjobs and then part of his face would fall off.

That did not happen, dear readers. I didn't get a blow job from a leper hobo; rather we wandered around a corner and saw "SKEEBALL PALACE," which I assured Brandon is precisely where I'll go when I die, and then he saw a security car and got spooked and I got to leave Libertyland without contracting leprosy from a horny hobo squatter. The end.

ADDENDUM: When searching Google image for "leper" to come up with a visual aid for this entry, I discovered this gem from the "Cosmic Conservative" Double Yew Tee Eff.


Bette said...

My mother took the master gardener courses here in Jackson. I wonder if it is the same thing. She has to do a certain number of volunteer work to complete the course. Although she is going on 50, she is "the young girl" in the bunch.


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