Good morning, y’all. I’m feelin’ a little grubby this morning. The beautiful near Spring weather has given rise to the local animal population to come out again to forage for food. It seems like several people at TackyToo are not smart enough to close the lids tightly on their garbage cans. I’ve been cleaning up trash all morning.
Even after a shower and change of clothes, I can’t shake the smell. It’s a sad comment when you don’t know if a person’s trash smelled that way because the food had gone bad, or if that’s just how it smells naturally. I dwell on the topic because the bad smell that sticks with me came from the trash of our tenant in Number 55, Yuri Stinkhurr. The Stinkhurrs are of German descent, and Yuri has served in the Marines. Nice enough folks, pay their rent on time, and generally cause no problems. I suspect cabbage is a main staple of their diet. Pickled, boiled, fricasseed, whatever, it just seems the smell that I can’t shake is rotten cabbage.
I also can’t shake the image of Yuri coming out of his trailer in his deutschland boxers and wife-beater tshirt, brandishing a 410 shotgun. I’m not sure if the earliness of the hour led Mr. Stinkhurr into thinking I was the possum doing the damage, or if he thought I was a burglar attempting to steal his trash. Either way, the sight of him raising his shotgun in my direction raised my blood pressure about four hundred points. I was feelin’ so light headed there for a second that Mr. Stinkhurr might have taken me out without firing a shot. Anyway, he either recognized me, or my high pitched squeal, and lowered his weapon. Yuri came over and helped me pick up trash and tried to converse with me about a solution to the “possum problem”.
Mr. Stinkhurr’s plan to eradicate the possum population “once and for all”, was taking on all of the trademarks of “The Final Solution” from World War II. Yuri speculated that each of the trailers housed at least one person capable of carrying a weapon. Each member of the armed party would then start out in a picket line along Hwy 60. The picket line would then sweep through TackyToo, dispatching any vermin found along the way. The picket line would then continue as far back into the woods on the other side of the park as we were physically able to go. Yuri felt like it should be at least a monthly event, and was convinced that eventually the vermin would evolve to the point that they would know that traveling in TackyToo was verboten. Evolution was in our favor.
Yuri felt like I should coordinate the event by posting the dates and times on the poster board in the Rec room. It would be important that the tenants knew to keep their pets and children indoors during the “cleansing”. Yuri felt like we should keep track of the participants, to make sure every household was doing their civic duty. He speculated that if any household didn’t have a suitable weapon for the hunt that he could provide one. He would just need an hour’s advance notice to drive to his “UStoreIt” space. I don’t know why, but I felt like it was important to let Mr. Stinkhurr know that I was sure that every tenant at TackyToo had sufficient weaponry on hand to handle any possum hunt, or Zombie Apocalypse. We may be poor in worldly things, but not weaponry.
In other news, another nut with a bunch of guns killed a bunch of innocent people who were just minding their own business. We never seem to learn from our mistakes. There may be a common denominator, but I, and the NRA, can’t seem to suss it out.
