the mayor of crazy town attends a funeral …

This is an oldie (but goodie) from my old, dead blog. Enjoy!
Living in our house we have 2 grown ups – mom and husband, 3 children – #1, #2, #3, 1 dog – beagle, and 2 gerbils – squiqqy and ziggy. We also call them Honey and the Black One, or Honey and The One That Bites, or Lenny and Squiggy, or Rex and The Other One. I actually don’t really care what they are called. They are stinky, and they tend to bite. It is kind of fun to watch them nibble on their sunflower seeds at night, but I could probably watch that on youtube for free and never have to clean the gerbil cage again.We once had an afternoon when we had nothing to do. No baseball, no mommy working, no soccer. Wow! sounds nice, right? Wrong. We cannot be left home alone with nothing to do. Something bad usually happens. On this particular nothing-to-do day, I sent #1 upstairs for a timeout 5 minutes after we got home from school. He returns immediately, and he is panic stricken.”Mom! honey is DEAD! The Black One killed him!”

“Oh, no, #1, I’m sure he’s fine. The Black One would never kill Honey.”

Upon investigation, I find The Black One eating Honey. Literally. I keep trying to get the very excited kids out of the room. #1 is crying, #2 is screaming, and #3 is yelling something about cowboy boots and underwear day. Yes, I said cowboy boots and underwear day.

I secure the scene and prepare to dispose of the body. I have in my possession a large black trash bag, rubber gloves, and a bottle of mean green. In the middle of removing the body (read – emptying the cage contents into the trash bag, body and all), #1 enters the room.

“Are you just going … to … throw … Honey … away…? … ! … ?”

(Actually, that was my plan, but, he’ll never know.)

“Ummmm, of course, not #1. I was just holing him there until you got here.”

“We need to bury him.”

“Really? We?”

“Yes, sniff, sniff, we, sniff, should call a, sniff, craftsman and have him, sniff, deliver a special, sniff, metal box to bury, wahhhhhh, honey in.”

“A craftsman, huh? Special metal box?”

Snnnnniiiifffff!!!!!!!!!! WWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
“OH! Well, #1, while I would love to track down a craftsman and get honey the very best metal box possible, I’m afraid that is going to be impossible because all of the best craftsman are finished working by 3:30, and it’s … well, it’s already after 4, buddy.”wwwwaaaahhhhhhhhh ……. sniff sniff sniff”My goodness. How about if we find a special cloth to wrap him in for his funeral instead? Maybe like this very special … ummmm …. bandanna?”

“OH, Mom, that would be just perfect! Honey loved red.”

He did? Super.Now that that’s settled, I remove Honey from the trash bag and very ceremoniously wrap him in the sacred red bandanna while #1 is silently praying over his dead body. You see, #1 wants to be a priest, but only if he doesn’t have to shave his head*. After enrobing the body, I let #1 hold Honey for a second to say goodbye, then I quickly shoo him from the room while I finish cleaning up the crime scene.
In case you don’t know, I do not run a pet cemetery here, and I’m not about to start today so, once #1 was out of the room, I started getting Honey into his proper funeral garb when …The back door opens and closes and small feet come walking in. It’s #3.”Mom, i’m done pooping.”

“Huh? Weren’t you just outside?”

“Yep. Come wipe me.”

“OK. what’s going on?” (he is naked from the waist down except for his flip flops.)

“Oh, I pooped outside just like we do at the farm.”

“We’re not at the farm, at home we poop inside, in the toilet.”

“Ugh, boring.” He’s 3!

“Gross. Who’s going to clean up that mess?” (He puts his hand on my arm and gives me that I know you rode the short bus here, old lady, patronizing look.)

“Don’t worry about that, Mom. Beagle already ate all my poop.”

“Fabulous. Now I won’t have to get my hands dirty before the funeral.”Enter Super Husband. Now the gang’s all here and we can proceed with the funeral. mom, husband, a keening #1, #2 who couldn’t really care less, pants less #3, and poop-eating beagle. Super Husband digs hole and gently places ‘Honey’ in the bottom, then he plays the newly downloaded ‘Taps’ on his iphone while #1 tosses shovels of dirt over ‘Honey’. What a sight.Later that night, when Super Husband asked me what would happen when Beagle dug up ‘Honey’, I told him that we had just had a funeral for a sock. That’s right. The old switcheroo.

Fast forward to the next morning. #1 wakes up first and Beagle wakes up. We tell #1 to let Beagle outside, and he refuses. He is anxious that Beagle will disturb Honey’s grave. Super Husband is sure to explain that if Beagle does disturb the grave, she will surely eat the body, so there will be no sense in searching for it. Ever.

for the happy,

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