When I left Proof and Grunt in charge of this blog so I could join friends in celebrating Thanksgiving I expected some mischief. The keys to the liquor cabinet, as usual, were handed over to Proof. Where there’s imbibing in spirits there’s usually some degree of misbehavior.
I never imagined that Proof would deface one of the curvaceous lovelies that are posted here each Monday by drawing a bunny face on her derriere nor did I envision that Grunt would parody the regular feature “Flowing Curves of Beauty” with cheesy jokes about a bogus “War of the Sexes.”
But the thing that really chapped my ass was when Grunt decided to smear my good name by posting a totally ludicrous fairy tale involving me and an incident of road rage. The admission by Grunt that he and Proof were too drunk to vouch for me to the cops is all the evidence one needs to discern that these guys are full of it. Who do they think they are anyway? Barney Fife and Columbo?
I was nowhere near New Smyrna Beach, FL. I was in the Great State of South Carolina and the vehicle involved was not an SUV. It was an effing Prius with Tiger Paw decals and Clemson car flags flapping in the wind. Apparently the guy has delusions of grandeur that Clemson has a chance in hell of becoming college football’s National Champions. The driver of the Prius exchanged middle finger salutes with me traveling at a high rate of speed. So engrossed was he that he ran off the road hitting a peach stand. He was cited for reckless driving and damage to personal property.
Sophie the Wonderdog and I continued our travels laughing all the way as the owner of the peach stand was last seen pummeling the driver with her purse. Dumb Clemson fan. But I digress…
When I returned from my trip, I entered Casa de Curmudgeon to find the usual beer cans and broken beer mugs littering the floor and squirrel poop everywhere. This time however, there were bullet holes in the wall where these two sophomores were using my Hümmel figurines for target practice. Just look at what they did. There are 15 bullet holes in the wall and four of the figurines had their little heads shot off. I also left clear instructions not to make grilled cheese sammiches in the waffle maker. Did they listen? No. No they didn’t.