Seldom doth a week elapse lest one or more twenty-somethings are caught wheeling out one or more flat-screened TVs from our local Meth-Mart . . . aka Wal-mart.
Maybe it’s because their already walnut-sized brains
are so totally sizzed that these zit-faced drug-addicts don’t see a problem
boosting these enormous things in broad daylight, in front of hundreds, watched
by more security cameras overhead than a casino has. Yes, it may be the most expensive item in the
store and may render the most swag from a fence, but. . . . Hey? Hello?
Like, Duh! . . . the flippin’ things are off-the-charts huge! What on earth makes these idiots—three tried
it just the other day—what makes them think they can just muscle these things
into shopping carts then wheel them out to the car unnoticed? Is it because the eighty-year-old Wal-Mart “geezer
greeters” are no longer guarding the gates?
Is it because they think that they look like just your every-day normal
drug-addicted Wal-mart customers? Is it
because they think no one is watching any of those thousand camera monitors?
Anyway, the three above Mensa
members decided on bush bail when confronted by five hundred waiting cops,
fifty barking K-9s and the entire Charlotte County Air Force whirling
overhead. Seems the thieves were even
worse at fleeing than they were at stealing and they, of course, we rounded up
in record time, breaking the old Guinness Book Record for “Quickest Wal-mart
Foot-Chase Apprehension” by thirty-two seconds.
Come to think of it, since I
seldom bother to even check on these crimes or the Billy Joe Outlaws and
Tiffany Fay Twotons who commit them, perhaps they are the same whacked-out
offenders who mindlessly recommit week after week after week after the same revolving
door legal system turns them loose week after week after week.
___________________________________________
Andy Hudson was just puttering
along. Swimming back in the boonies on a
river the other day, Andy seemingly had not a care in the world. Of course, at age seventeen, young Hudson
probably didn’t have even a thought in
the world, much less a care or concern.
Only that explains why he was floating around on a river in a rubber tube
in Florida in the summer in a brain-dead trance, oblivious to everything. So then, guess what? Well, just then, all of a sudden, a really
big giant osprey dives down and snatches up poor Andy and then takes him,
kicking and screaming, up into a tree and eats him, head, heals, haunch, whole
hog and all.
No, of course, I’m lying. Not a giant flying meat-eater gets Andy but a
giant swimming meat-eater grabs Andy, and by the head too.
Long story short: Only a stupid
teenager would be swimming in a Florida river infested with whopper gators but then,
only a stupid teenager could manage to escape from a ten-foot gator who has a
stupid teenager’s head in its mouth. Ha! Andy seems no worse for wear . . . stitches,
staples, hospital, get-well cards, release, go home, joking, joshing, horsing
around, floating on Florida rivers . . .
(sigh)
As for the attacker: Hired guns
have been called in to go take out the armor-plated assailant who was only
doing what gators do. In every
encounter, the natural world loses out to the stupid world every time.
Note: Speaking of teens: I am
happy to report that those two young ladies from Indiana whose parasail broke
loose the other day and which dashed them mercilessly against that condo up at
Panama Beach (“Water World,” 7.4.13), are, in spite of a shopping list of
injuries, making almost miraculous recoveries.
Hmmmm . . . three weeks in hospital, get-well cards, release, go home, welcome
back party, joking, giggling, texting, getting mad, making up, giggling, going
to school, trying out for cheerleader, coming back to Florida, go parasailing
again. . . . (sigh)
___________________________________________
Serial Water—Speaking of ospreys.
. . . Up at Osprey, just north of Manasota, just south of Sarasota, old Bill
Kawalachek was confused. Although only
three blocks from his home on Lake Placid Drive, the 78-year-old gentleman
didn’t have a clue where he was, where he had been, or where he was going (It’s
also a safe bet Bill probably didn’t even know who he was or what he was). And so, what does any crazed Florida geezer
do when confused? Well, naturally, they
step on the “brake” and they keep pressing that brake until they have 1) blasted
a hole into a post office wall, 2) mowed down a parking lot full of people, or
3) rocketed right into the nearest body of water. In this case it was “the nearest body of water,”
Lake Placid.
The car sank like a stone, like a stone
whose windows were rolled down by a “confused” driver who neglected to take off
his seatbelt first. Within minutes the
vehicle was out of sight. Fortunately--or
maybe unfortunately, depending on your survival instincts--witnesses saw the
car fly into the lake and these do-gooders quickly pegged 911. Shortly, EMTs arrived, spotted the bubbles,
pulled off their shoes, took off their socks, folded their shirts and pants and
laid them neatly on the bank, removed their rings and wrist watches, called
home to see what was for supper, tested the water with their toes, then dove in
(poor devils . . . they are inured to such stuff here at Senior Sentral).
Since the doors were locked, and
the windows were rolled back up, naturally, the men decided to break the glass
sun roof. Sure enough, down there was
old Bill sitting strapped in and confused.
Though nearly drowned, the addled old fool was plucked from the mess and
whisked away to the nearest hospital by the swiftest ox cart available. At last word, old Bill lives yet. And as for our life-savers? And what of these heroic guys who kept
Kawalachek alive to drive and be confused on yet another day? These young stalwarts are in line for yet another
life-saving Hero award, their twelfth this month.
Any comments on your narrow
escape, Bill, and the heroes who saved your bacon?
“Escape? Narrow?
Heroes? Bacon? Where am I?
And who the hell are you? Say, is
this a joke? And what planet are we on
now?”
Sorta like the teenagers above—geezers
seem to get into one deadly scrape after another but you just never hear of
them getting killed like the rest of us.
Anyone remember “Mr. Magoo”? I
never realized how much truth there was in those cartoons until moving down
here to this nut farm.
