New information in the Rudolph saga. The note on the fridge was apparently written by my brother Sandy; when he woke up today he asked if we saw it. We were all, yeah but the trap sprang without catching anything and he was like, what. Apparently he heard what was, according to him, the most disgusting sounds he's ever heard. He was convinced he was listening to Rudolph die, he heard the snap and a scuffle and then what he described as "arterial gushing," the sound of blood gushing out in time to a heartbeat.
So into the bathroom we go to check again, this time with a flashlight to make sure we don't miss anything. And sure enough, about two feet back underneath the tub was a pool of blood...
...But no rat.
And there are no tracks to or from the blood either, no sign of anything being there, just a dried puddle of blood on the ground. And it's pretty far away from the trap too, it was like two feet away and didn't have any blood on it at all. The only explanation I can think of is he was flung there, bled out and died, and after the blood dried he reanimated and scurried off. Clearly we have an undead rat living in the walls of our house. This will be Ground Zero for the zombified rat army uprising.
Honestly, I'm starting to think we should just give up and move out. This is just too much for us. He can have the house, we don't want it any more.
Showing posts with label storytime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label storytime. Show all posts
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Rudolph The Rat
So, we have a Christmas rat in the house. I've named him Rudolph, in the spirit of the season.
He got in a few days ago. I know, because I'm a complete night owl so I was the only one awake all night to see him. And I saw him all right, because he was freaking all over the place. First I heard something moving in the kitchen from my seat in the living room, so I get up and walk down the hallway just in time to see a dark thing scurry across the way from the kitchen door to dad's office. "Okay," I think to myself, "So we have a mouse." No biggie. We live kind of far back from the street, a little into the woods, so we get mice on a regular basis. Especially in winter when they are looking for someplace warm and full of food to snuggle up in during the cold weather. In fact, we'd just gotten rid of a mouse or two in the past week with sticky traps. Personally, I hate the things; I can't stand hearing mice squealing in terror when they're trapped in one, and pretty much all you can do with sticky traps is either crush the mouse to death (we use wine bottles) or, if the poor thing is unlucky, you don't notice it's there so it dies of thirst over a period of days, all the while struggling and screaming and biting at itself in a futile attempt to escape. Unfortunately they are easily the most effective type of trap.
Anyway, I thought nothing of it at first, but Rudolph wasn't exactly shy, so I realized pretty quickly that it wasn't a normal mouse in the house. I caught another glimpse of him as he ran behind a cupboard later, and I thought "That seems to be a bit bigger than your average mouse." Later on I'm back in the living room, sitting on the sofa with my laptop on my lap, and I see something out of the corner of my eye. I look up just in time to see his tail flash by in the gap between the garbage can and the chair; it's long, dark, thick and held at least an inch off the ground. I don't know a lot about rats, but as an animal lover I've happily played with friends' pet rats and none of them seemed that big. But it was most definitely a rat's tail. Next time I go into the kitchen, I see his adorable ratty face poking out from behind a bag before he takes off. Later on I get a properly good look at him (and he is huge) when he climbs up onto the tv stand to explore...about five feet away from me. I guess he figures that as big as he is, he can take anyone, especially the short person on the sofa. To be fair, he probably has a point.
Anyway, clearly something must be done before Rudolph starts feeling at home. I spent most of that night chasing after every noise I heard with a bit of pipe in my hand, stomping and shouting at him. I have no idea how my family slept through it. I didn't have any proper rat traps, but I had a few mouse-sized sticky traps so I was hoping they could do the trick. No luck. I set one behind the bag and in front of the drawers, where I saw him before, and not fifteen minutes later I hard thrashing and the bag rustling in the kitchen. But when I get there the bag is already knocked over and the trap gone. I pull out the drawers (they are a plastic set on wheels, we are theoretically still renovating the kitchen) and yep, it was hauled underneath them, no rat inside. Damn. Later on, when I catch him trying to go at the big garbage bag (successfully tearing it all to pieces before I can chase him off) I take the ineffective trap and put it by the bag to ward him off, using his freakishly large intelligence against him. We both know the trap won't actually stop him...but he knows it is a trap. It must have worked, because he stayed away from the bag after that. The next day I go to Canadian Tire with Dad and we buy half a dozen rat traps.
We set two as soon as we got home, then promptly lost the bag. Grammy was spending the night that night, so I stayed up later than usual (or rather, as late as I normally do, but intentionally this time) both to be around to help her if she needed it and to listen for Rudolph and keep him from eating my sleeping grandmother's face Compsognathus-style should he show up. I heard him rattling around a lot and I think I caught a glimpse of him once or twice, but nothing like the night before. The next night my brother Sandy hears him; he was int he front of the house, and I was in the living room at the back. He comes tearing down the hallway like a shot and vanishes into his bedroom, bellowing "MOM SAID I COULD!" I figure out what he's talking about when he comes out and runs off with a bow and arrow; clearly a Rudolph situation. I haven't got the pipe at hand this time, so I grab the death stick (an electrified tennis racket I use for flies, a gift from my mother last Christmas) and follow behind.
We don't catch Rudolph, because rats are quicker than people looking for weapons to kill rats with, lucky for them. But we do find the Canadian Tire bag with the rat traps in it, so we set a bunch. Two around the front of the house, where we keep hearing him. One behind the silverware drawer, where I saw him that one time. One in the attic where Sandy thinks he heard him and where we found a dead bird that Rudolph may or may not have been eating. One in the bathroom behind the tub, where my parents think he might have gotten in by squeezing around the pipes. One underneath the record player; I haven't seen him over there yet, but mice like that area as we've caught a few in the sticky traps below there, so we might luck out with Rudolph. I feel like there's another one or two that I have forgotten, but I don't think there actually are. I'm just imagining things. Anyway, we rat-proof the house as best we can and post a list of the traps on the fridge so nobody breaks a finger digging too deep in the food cupboard under the microwave and go to bed. The next day when I get up somebody's scribbled "RAT IN BATHROOM TRAP" but I checked and the trap has been sprung but there's no rat in it. I think he set it off and someone heard that and wrote it down without checking to see if it actually got him.
I am hoping we catch him before Christmas. I don't want Rudolph getting into and ruining my Christmas candy or anything. Sandy had to get rid of his Christmas stocking last year because a mouse chewed a hole in it. Not during Christmas, I mean, but over the summer when he had it put away. And Dad is already sick of dealing with rodents getting into the garbage box down the driveway and ripping the garbage bags up and spreading trash everywhere, we would rather keep that out of the house if at all possible. If we do catch him I will post updates and possibly pictures, if I ever find my camera cable to connect to the computer so I can actually take my photos off the camera!
Artistic interpretation of Rudolph, except not. It's just a random Christmas rat picture I stole from Google Image Search.
Sorry for stealing, The Dapper Rat.
Anyway, I thought nothing of it at first, but Rudolph wasn't exactly shy, so I realized pretty quickly that it wasn't a normal mouse in the house. I caught another glimpse of him as he ran behind a cupboard later, and I thought "That seems to be a bit bigger than your average mouse." Later on I'm back in the living room, sitting on the sofa with my laptop on my lap, and I see something out of the corner of my eye. I look up just in time to see his tail flash by in the gap between the garbage can and the chair; it's long, dark, thick and held at least an inch off the ground. I don't know a lot about rats, but as an animal lover I've happily played with friends' pet rats and none of them seemed that big. But it was most definitely a rat's tail. Next time I go into the kitchen, I see his adorable ratty face poking out from behind a bag before he takes off. Later on I get a properly good look at him (and he is huge) when he climbs up onto the tv stand to explore...about five feet away from me. I guess he figures that as big as he is, he can take anyone, especially the short person on the sofa. To be fair, he probably has a point.
Anyway, clearly something must be done before Rudolph starts feeling at home. I spent most of that night chasing after every noise I heard with a bit of pipe in my hand, stomping and shouting at him. I have no idea how my family slept through it. I didn't have any proper rat traps, but I had a few mouse-sized sticky traps so I was hoping they could do the trick. No luck. I set one behind the bag and in front of the drawers, where I saw him before, and not fifteen minutes later I hard thrashing and the bag rustling in the kitchen. But when I get there the bag is already knocked over and the trap gone. I pull out the drawers (they are a plastic set on wheels, we are theoretically still renovating the kitchen) and yep, it was hauled underneath them, no rat inside. Damn. Later on, when I catch him trying to go at the big garbage bag (successfully tearing it all to pieces before I can chase him off) I take the ineffective trap and put it by the bag to ward him off, using his freakishly large intelligence against him. We both know the trap won't actually stop him...but he knows it is a trap. It must have worked, because he stayed away from the bag after that. The next day I go to Canadian Tire with Dad and we buy half a dozen rat traps.
The big ones.
We set two as soon as we got home, then promptly lost the bag. Grammy was spending the night that night, so I stayed up later than usual (or rather, as late as I normally do, but intentionally this time) both to be around to help her if she needed it and to listen for Rudolph and keep him from eating my sleeping grandmother's face Compsognathus-style should he show up. I heard him rattling around a lot and I think I caught a glimpse of him once or twice, but nothing like the night before. The next night my brother Sandy hears him; he was int he front of the house, and I was in the living room at the back. He comes tearing down the hallway like a shot and vanishes into his bedroom, bellowing "MOM SAID I COULD!" I figure out what he's talking about when he comes out and runs off with a bow and arrow; clearly a Rudolph situation. I haven't got the pipe at hand this time, so I grab the death stick (an electrified tennis racket I use for flies, a gift from my mother last Christmas) and follow behind.
We don't catch Rudolph, because rats are quicker than people looking for weapons to kill rats with, lucky for them. But we do find the Canadian Tire bag with the rat traps in it, so we set a bunch. Two around the front of the house, where we keep hearing him. One behind the silverware drawer, where I saw him that one time. One in the attic where Sandy thinks he heard him and where we found a dead bird that Rudolph may or may not have been eating. One in the bathroom behind the tub, where my parents think he might have gotten in by squeezing around the pipes. One underneath the record player; I haven't seen him over there yet, but mice like that area as we've caught a few in the sticky traps below there, so we might luck out with Rudolph. I feel like there's another one or two that I have forgotten, but I don't think there actually are. I'm just imagining things. Anyway, we rat-proof the house as best we can and post a list of the traps on the fridge so nobody breaks a finger digging too deep in the food cupboard under the microwave and go to bed. The next day when I get up somebody's scribbled "RAT IN BATHROOM TRAP" but I checked and the trap has been sprung but there's no rat in it. I think he set it off and someone heard that and wrote it down without checking to see if it actually got him.
I am hoping we catch him before Christmas. I don't want Rudolph getting into and ruining my Christmas candy or anything. Sandy had to get rid of his Christmas stocking last year because a mouse chewed a hole in it. Not during Christmas, I mean, but over the summer when he had it put away. And Dad is already sick of dealing with rodents getting into the garbage box down the driveway and ripping the garbage bags up and spreading trash everywhere, we would rather keep that out of the house if at all possible. If we do catch him I will post updates and possibly pictures, if I ever find my camera cable to connect to the computer so I can actually take my photos off the camera!
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Dear Drunk Lady Please Don't Grab My Food
Went down to Mardi Gras on George Street the other night with Ash and Yellow Dude, and had a blast (of course). The evening was a ton of fun. YD's Jack Skellington costume was a hit, my Vampire Queen costume was exactly what I wanted it to be, and Ash's rocker outfit looked badass. We heard some great music, saw some great costumes, just generally had the sort of time you'd expect from Mardi Gras. When we got bored of the street around three thirty in the morning, we hit the Celtic Hearth for some dinner, as we usually do. Which is where some random woman walking past leaned over my shoulder and grabbed my sandwich.
Of all the weird people on the Street, this lady was the weirdest. Like, seriously. I don't go downtown often, but when I do there are always weirdos, and this person was the weirdo to out-weird all weirdos. Exactly how drunk or how stupid do you have to be to walk past a complete stranger's table in a restaurant, take a liking to their sandwich, and proceed to grab it off their plate? I was talking about something or other to Ash and YD, and all of a sudden they just got this look of utter shock on their faces. Ash, momentarily speechless (an oddity, to say the least) managed to point towards my plate and say, "Uh, Robin!" in a horrified tone.
I look over and see some random person's hand clawed around my sandwich and from behind me I hear some woman say, "Oh, can I have this?" Without thinking, I knock her hand away and hunch protectively over my plate, my hands belatedly forming a shield over my poor groped food and saying, "Um, NO!" I never did see her face, but Ash and YD told me later that her expression was really offended, and I hear her go "Awww!" in a disappointed tone as she leaves the restaurant. Maybe she thought that by getting her hands all over my meal I'd be too disgusted to keep it and she'd get away with the bounty or something. Clearly she has no idea how possessive I get over my food. Back off, lady. I'll fuckin' bite.
Of all the weird people on the Street, this lady was the weirdest. Like, seriously. I don't go downtown often, but when I do there are always weirdos, and this person was the weirdo to out-weird all weirdos. Exactly how drunk or how stupid do you have to be to walk past a complete stranger's table in a restaurant, take a liking to their sandwich, and proceed to grab it off their plate? I was talking about something or other to Ash and YD, and all of a sudden they just got this look of utter shock on their faces. Ash, momentarily speechless (an oddity, to say the least) managed to point towards my plate and say, "Uh, Robin!" in a horrified tone.
I look over and see some random person's hand clawed around my sandwich and from behind me I hear some woman say, "Oh, can I have this?" Without thinking, I knock her hand away and hunch protectively over my plate, my hands belatedly forming a shield over my poor groped food and saying, "Um, NO!" I never did see her face, but Ash and YD told me later that her expression was really offended, and I hear her go "Awww!" in a disappointed tone as she leaves the restaurant. Maybe she thought that by getting her hands all over my meal I'd be too disgusted to keep it and she'd get away with the bounty or something. Clearly she has no idea how possessive I get over my food. Back off, lady. I'll fuckin' bite.
Friday, March 15, 2013
I Am A Terrible Dream-Pet Owner
Once I dreamed that I had two pet hamsters that I kept in a standard-size (read, small) cage on top of the dresser in my room. I dreamed this a year or two ago, and it was not a particularly exciting dream, with the exception of two cute hamsters. I have always wanted a hamster. I can't have one though, because I am not nearly responsible enough to keep a small pet. I can handle a dog, but a hamster is beyond my capabilities. I'll leave the cage door open and the hamster will run out and get caught in the sticky trap in the kitchen, and it'll be just like when mice get caught in it. I'll hear my pet screaming in terror and biting at itself until it bleeds, immobilized in the glue until somebody finds it, and all you can do is put the entire trap with the screaming terrified rodent into a plastic bag and smash it with a wine bottle to put it out of its misery. It's the most inhumane form of trap. I wish it wasn't so effective. Also, I wish people would keep hamsters in larger cages. I've never seen a hamster really happy in one of those standard-size cages, that are like the size of a shoebox. Hamsters get bored in those and just sleep in the corner all day and get fat because there's no room to run around so all they can do is spin on that little wheel. I've seen hamsters get bored of that wheel. Hamsters seem to be happiest in those huge two-story cages with the tubes and shit to run around in, and a little cubbyhole to hide and sleep in. If I ever get a hamster, that's the cage I'm getting. Fuck the tiny one, I want my hams to have all the space they need.
But I digress, I was talking about my dream-hamsters, not my future-hamsters. Once a year or two ago I dreamed I had two pet hamsters that I kept in a cage on top of my dresser. And every so often I remember that dream, but I forget for a second that it was a dream. So I remember owning hamsters, and then I go, holy shit I haven't thought about those hamsters in months the poor things have starved to death I'm such a terrible person! And it's only after I have made myself feel miserably sad and guilty over being such a terrible person that I remember, wait, I've never owned a hamster, that was only a dream I had once. I am not sure if this is an odd story or if it happens to a lot of people. I'm just blogging about it in the hope that once it becomes a funny story I tell, I'll stop forgetting that the hamsters were only a dream. I love my dead dream hamsters, I don't want to think that I killed them. The poor little things.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
The Tinder-Box, by Hans Christian Anderson
I love old fairy tales. They're amazing. They're nothing like modern fairy tales, because old, original fairy tales are delightfully dark. One of my favourites is Hans Christian Anderson's story of the tinder box. The "hero" is just so gleefully evil and the story doesn't seem to realize at all. It serves as an example of how fairy tales don't necessarily need a moral, or if they do have one it tends to be a moral for terrible, terrible people. Shall I tell it to you? I think you'd like it.
The Tinder-Box
One day a soldier was marching along a road. He was all alone, because soldiers march alone, I guess. He had a pack on his back and a sword on his hip, because "he had been to the wars, and was now returning home." I love how that's phrased. "Oh, I'm just gonna pop off to the wars for a bit, I'll pick up some milk on the way back!"
The soldier meets a witch on the road. Supposedly. What actually happens is he meets an ugly old woman, and assumes she's a witch because she's old and ugly. She stops him as he passes and says, “Good evening, soldier; you have a very fine sword, and a large knapsack, and you are a real soldier; so you shall have as much money as ever you like.”
“Thank you, old witch,” said the soldier. So some old woman stops him and goes, "Hey, you're a soldier: I'm gonna give you money!" and he replies with "Thanks, hag." Not only does he just agree, like he thinks everybody should give him as much money as he wants and she would be weird not to offer, but he doesn't even hesitate to call her a witch right to her face. Classy guy!
But the "witch" doesn't seem to mind that the soldier is a giant cock, so she explains how he will get the money. She tells him to go up to the top of a nearby tree, because it's actually hollow and at the top there is a hole that will get him down deep into the tree. She'll tie a rope around him so he can get down and she'll pull him up. In the ground under the hollow tree there is a vast hall lit by three hundred lamps (the lamps are not important to the story, nor is the vastness of the hall; it seems a little improbable to have a giant room lit by hundreds of lamps underneath a tree. Fairy tales do not always make sense.) with three doors. They are locked, but the keys are in the locks, so they can be easily opened. It's almost as if they have no locks to begin with. How convenient!
The no-proof-that-she-is-a-witch woman explains that behind the first door, there is a room with a large chest sitting in the middle of the floor. On top of that chest sits a dog with eyes the size of teacups, but the soldier need not fear it for the not-witch will give him her apron to spread upon the floor. Then he must grab the dog and place it on her apron. The dog will stay there, and the soldier can then open the chest and take as many copper pennies as he wants, for the chest only has copper pennies. If he does not want the copper pennies, though, he can proceed to the next room. It is the same, except the dog sitting on the chest has eyes the size of millwheels, and the chest is filled with silver. And again in the third room, where the chest has gold coins and the dog is "very dreadful; his eyes are as big as a tower," but agian, just grabbing it and putting it on the old lady's apron will keep him from being a bother.
Is it just me, or are the dog descriptions really weird? I mean, I guess the first two, with eyes as big as teacups and millwheels -- okay, those are both round, I guess. So either the dog is of a size to match the eyes, or they just have bizarrely odd heads. Whatever. But the last one is just...what? "As big as a tower" is a terrible description. What does that even mean? How big of a tower? Do you mean the diameter of its eyes is the same as the height of the mysterious tower? Or does it mean like, around the tower, not the height? Are his eyes the shape of towers? Damn, I want to see this dog.
Anyway, back to the story. The soldier says, “This is not a bad story, but what am I to give you, you old witch? for, of course, you do not mean to tell me all this for nothing.” Yeah, you ancient hag? You're so suspicious, what with being old and ugly and probably evil because of how old and ugly you are.
“No,” said the accused witch, who is being very patient with the shitty guy she's talking to, because I would have said to hell with him ages ago. “But I do not ask for a single penny. Only promise to bring me an old tinder-box, which my grandmother left behind the last time she went down there.” The soldier agrees, and the old woman gives him her apron and ties the rope around him, and he climbs up the tree and lowers himself through the hole, deep down beneath the tree into the great hall. He goes through the first door.
It was just as the witch had described. There was a dog with eyes like teacups, sitting on top of a large chest. "You're a pretty fellow," said the soldier, seizing the dog and placing him on the old woman's apron. He then filled his pockets with the copper coins from the chest, because I guess he forgot that there was silver and gold in the next two rooms. Hey, maybe he's just a really nice, selfless guy who never takes more than he needs to survive!
Oh, wait, no, because then he goes to the next room and meets the dog with millwheel-eyes, and does the same thing as in the last room. He tells the dog, "You had better not look at me in that way, you will make your eyes water," (I guess he thinks he's witty?) puts the dog on the apron, dumps all the copper coins he collected and filled his pockets and his knapsack with nothing but silver. Then he goes to the next room with the chest of gold, because he can't plan ahead. Go to that room first, you idiot.
Third room. This dog was really hideous; his eyes were, truly, as big as towers, and they turned round and round in his head like wheels. SHOW ME THIS DOG. I WANT TO SEE HIM. What the hell does "truly as big as towers" even mean!?
“Good morning,” said the soldier, touching his cap, for he had never seen such a dog in his life. But after looking at him more closely, he thought he had been civil enough, and really? You're a total douche to an old ugly woman on the road who's offering you all the money you can carry in exchange for a simple favour, but a big ugly dog deserves your manners. Really, this guy is a class act. He puts the dog on the apron, like all the others, and opens the chest. Dumping out all the silver he got from the last room (why did he take it in the first place?) he fills his pockets, knapsack, cap, and boots with gold, so he can barely walk. At this point when I first read this story, I had assumed that it would be working up to a moral about greed and taking more than you needed to the point where you were physically hampered. It doesn't, though. I thought I would tell you now, so you don't go through the story with misconceptions.
Now that he was filthy stinking rich, he goes back to the entrance and calls up the tree, "Pull me up, you old witch." Seriously, dude, she has made you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams. Maybe you should ask for her name or something, at the very least.
The woman asks, "Do you have the tinder box?" The soldier replies, "No, I declare I quite forgot it," and goes back to fetch it. Yeah, right. Forgot it like a fox, probably. He was hoping he could con the witch -- oh shit, now I'm doing it. He was hoping he could con the old woman who has never actually shown any signs of being a witch other than being old and ugly, into letting him dump his cash somewhere and then come back for a second go. Greedy fuck.
So when the woman sees through his scheme and makes sure he does the work she's paying him for, she pulls him up out of the tree. Remember, he's loaded down with as much gold as he could get away with. The old woman is doing more work than he is here, hauling his greedy ass up a hundred feet to the top of the hollow tree. All he had to do was move a couple of dogs and grab a wooden box, and he barely managed to do that right.
Once out of the tree and standing safe on the road, with his pockets, backpack, hat and shoes filled with gold, the woman asks for her tinder-box. "What are you going to do with it?" the soldier asks.
"That is nothing to do with you," she told him. "You have the money, now give me the tinder-box."
“I tell you what,” said the soldier, “if you don’t tell me what you are going to do with it, I will draw my sword and cut off your head.”
“No,” said the witch. So the soldier cut off her head. That's nice. She gives him as much money as he can carry, she only wants him to fetch her grandmother's tinder-box in return, and because she won't tell him what she's going to do with her own private personal property, he straight-up murders her and keeps it for his own. You are loaded head-to-foot with gold coins, you lunatic. What the hell does it matter what she wants to do with her grandmother's tinder-box?
The no-proof-that-she-is-a-witch woman explains that behind the first door, there is a room with a large chest sitting in the middle of the floor. On top of that chest sits a dog with eyes the size of teacups, but the soldier need not fear it for the not-witch will give him her apron to spread upon the floor. Then he must grab the dog and place it on her apron. The dog will stay there, and the soldier can then open the chest and take as many copper pennies as he wants, for the chest only has copper pennies. If he does not want the copper pennies, though, he can proceed to the next room. It is the same, except the dog sitting on the chest has eyes the size of millwheels, and the chest is filled with silver. And again in the third room, where the chest has gold coins and the dog is "very dreadful; his eyes are as big as a tower," but agian, just grabbing it and putting it on the old lady's apron will keep him from being a bother.
Is it just me, or are the dog descriptions really weird? I mean, I guess the first two, with eyes as big as teacups and millwheels -- okay, those are both round, I guess. So either the dog is of a size to match the eyes, or they just have bizarrely odd heads. Whatever. But the last one is just...what? "As big as a tower" is a terrible description. What does that even mean? How big of a tower? Do you mean the diameter of its eyes is the same as the height of the mysterious tower? Or does it mean like, around the tower, not the height? Are his eyes the shape of towers? Damn, I want to see this dog.
Anyway, back to the story. The soldier says, “This is not a bad story, but what am I to give you, you old witch? for, of course, you do not mean to tell me all this for nothing.” Yeah, you ancient hag? You're so suspicious, what with being old and ugly and probably evil because of how old and ugly you are.
“No,” said the accused witch, who is being very patient with the shitty guy she's talking to, because I would have said to hell with him ages ago. “But I do not ask for a single penny. Only promise to bring me an old tinder-box, which my grandmother left behind the last time she went down there.” The soldier agrees, and the old woman gives him her apron and ties the rope around him, and he climbs up the tree and lowers himself through the hole, deep down beneath the tree into the great hall. He goes through the first door.
It was just as the witch had described. There was a dog with eyes like teacups, sitting on top of a large chest. "You're a pretty fellow," said the soldier, seizing the dog and placing him on the old woman's apron. He then filled his pockets with the copper coins from the chest, because I guess he forgot that there was silver and gold in the next two rooms. Hey, maybe he's just a really nice, selfless guy who never takes more than he needs to survive!
Oh, wait, no, because then he goes to the next room and meets the dog with millwheel-eyes, and does the same thing as in the last room. He tells the dog, "You had better not look at me in that way, you will make your eyes water," (I guess he thinks he's witty?) puts the dog on the apron, dumps all the copper coins he collected and filled his pockets and his knapsack with nothing but silver. Then he goes to the next room with the chest of gold, because he can't plan ahead. Go to that room first, you idiot.
Third room. This dog was really hideous; his eyes were, truly, as big as towers, and they turned round and round in his head like wheels. SHOW ME THIS DOG. I WANT TO SEE HIM. What the hell does "truly as big as towers" even mean!?
“Good morning,” said the soldier, touching his cap, for he had never seen such a dog in his life. But after looking at him more closely, he thought he had been civil enough, and really? You're a total douche to an old ugly woman on the road who's offering you all the money you can carry in exchange for a simple favour, but a big ugly dog deserves your manners. Really, this guy is a class act. He puts the dog on the apron, like all the others, and opens the chest. Dumping out all the silver he got from the last room (why did he take it in the first place?) he fills his pockets, knapsack, cap, and boots with gold, so he can barely walk. At this point when I first read this story, I had assumed that it would be working up to a moral about greed and taking more than you needed to the point where you were physically hampered. It doesn't, though. I thought I would tell you now, so you don't go through the story with misconceptions.
Now that he was filthy stinking rich, he goes back to the entrance and calls up the tree, "Pull me up, you old witch." Seriously, dude, she has made you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams. Maybe you should ask for her name or something, at the very least.
The woman asks, "Do you have the tinder box?" The soldier replies, "No, I declare I quite forgot it," and goes back to fetch it. Yeah, right. Forgot it like a fox, probably. He was hoping he could con the witch -- oh shit, now I'm doing it. He was hoping he could con the old woman who has never actually shown any signs of being a witch other than being old and ugly, into letting him dump his cash somewhere and then come back for a second go. Greedy fuck.
So when the woman sees through his scheme and makes sure he does the work she's paying him for, she pulls him up out of the tree. Remember, he's loaded down with as much gold as he could get away with. The old woman is doing more work than he is here, hauling his greedy ass up a hundred feet to the top of the hollow tree. All he had to do was move a couple of dogs and grab a wooden box, and he barely managed to do that right.
Once out of the tree and standing safe on the road, with his pockets, backpack, hat and shoes filled with gold, the woman asks for her tinder-box. "What are you going to do with it?" the soldier asks.
"That is nothing to do with you," she told him. "You have the money, now give me the tinder-box."
“I tell you what,” said the soldier, “if you don’t tell me what you are going to do with it, I will draw my sword and cut off your head.”
“No,” said the witch. So the soldier cut off her head. That's nice. She gives him as much money as he can carry, she only wants him to fetch her grandmother's tinder-box in return, and because she won't tell him what she's going to do with her own private personal property, he straight-up murders her and keeps it for his own. You are loaded head-to-foot with gold coins, you lunatic. What the hell does it matter what she wants to do with her grandmother's tinder-box?
Then he kept her apron in order to tie up all his ill-gotten gains, put her tinder-box in his pocket, and left her corpse lying in the road as he walks to the next town. When there, he buys a feast of all his favourite dishes, and all the fine clothes he could want, so that he became known as a fine gentleman. He is never brought to justice for the cold-blooded murder of an old woman on the road.
He became popular in the town because of his wealth, and people came and spoke to him frequently and told him of all the sights to be seen in the town, and of the king's beautiful daughter, the princess. "Where can I see her?" he asked, but was told that she was not to be seen, ever. She lived in a great copper castle, full of walls and towers, both of which are to be expected in a castle. But she was not allowed to leave, and only the king was permitted entrance into her castle, for there was a prophecy that she would marry a common soldier rather than a prince or a king, and her father could not bear the thought of his daughter marrying so low.
The soldier very much wanted to see the beautiful princess, but could not get permission to enter the copper castle, so he tried to put her out of his mind. He had a very pleasant time in the town, going to the theatre and riding in the king's gardens and giving a great deal of money to the poor, which was very good of him, for he remembered what it was like to be without a shilling before he brutally murdered the nice old lady who gave him all his money.
The soldier was quite rich now, with his fine clothes and many friends who called him a fine fellow and a real gentleman, and this made him feel very good about himself. But even a great amount of money is not infinite, and as the soldier spent and gave away a great deal daily, and received none coming in, he found himself at last poor once more, with only two shillings to his name. He was forced to leave his elegant rooms and live in a small poor room in the attic, where he had to clean his own boots and clothes and (gasp) even mend them with a large needle. None of his friends came to see him, because they were as shallow as him and had no need of him now that he was poor again there were too many stairs to climb. One dark evening he found he did not even have a penny to buy a candle. Suddenly he remembered that there was a piece of candle stuck in the tinder-box, which he had killed the old woman for and then forgotten about completely. Your hero, ladies and gentlemen, the man who can murder an old woman in cold blood, steal her property, and then forget about it entirely as soon as he finishes wiping the blood from his sword.
He digs out the tinder-box, but as soon as he struck flint and steel to make a spark, the door to his room flew open and there stood the dog from beneath the tree, with the eyes like teacups. "What orders, master?" said the dog.
“Hallo,” said the soldier; “well this is a pleasant tinderbox, if it brings me all I wish for." He tells the dog to bring him some money, and the dog left, returning in a moment carrying in his mouth a bag full of copper coins. The soldier very soon discovered after this the value of the tinder-box. If he struck the flint once, the dog who sat on the chest of copper money made his appearance; if twice, the dog came from the chest of silver; and if three times, the dog with eyes like towers, who watched over the gold. The soldier had now plenty of money; he returned to his elegant rooms, and reappeared in his fine clothes, so that his friends knew him again directly, and made as much of him as before. Now that he was rich again, he was a man worth knowing. In most fairy tales, you would assume that such fair-weather friends would be rejected by the righteous hero, who realizes that when they abandoned him in his time of need that they were never true friends to begin with. But our protagonist is just as shallow and mean as his so-called friends, so they all get on quite well with no hard feelings.
After a while, the soldier remembered the beautiful princess who was never seen. He thought it was very odd that she was kept shut up in her copper castle, because what was the point of a beautiful woman who was never seen? Clearly a lovely woman can only exist to be put on display for other people's pleasure, and her own feelings and desires would never enter into the equation. The soldier wondered how he could get a glimpse of the princess, for he was very curious, and felt he was entitled to anything he wanted since he had money and magic dogs at his beck and call. So he struck a light from the tinder-box and summoned the teacup-eyed dog. "It is midnight," he told the dog, "Yet I should very much like to see the princess, if only for a moment." The dog disappeared instantly, off to kidnap a princess because the hero is not-so-secretly the villain of the story, and before the soldier could even turn around the dog returned with the sleeping princess on its back. She was so lovely that no-one could think she was not a princess, because that's how princesses work in fairy tales. If you see an unbelievably beautiful woman, better bow because she'll be a princess. The soldier could not help but kiss her when he saw her, for he was a "true soldier" and could not help himself (here, have some statistics on rape in the military). Then the dog ran back with the princess; but the next morning, over breakfast with her parents the king and queen, the princess told them of the odd dream she had, where she had ridden on the back of a strange dog and been kissed by a soldier.
"That is a very pretty story indeed," said the queen. Fearing the prophecy of her daughter marrying a common soldier, she had one of the old ladies of the court sent to the princess's bedside that night, to discover whether it was truly a dream or if it was something else.
The soldier longed very much to see the beautiful princess again, so that night he summoned the dog to fetch her and to run with her as quickly as ever it could. But the old woman pulled on "water boots," whatever they are, and ran after just as quickly as the dog could run. Hey, this old woman is badass. I hope the soldier doesn't behead her. When the old woman found that the dog carried the princess to a large house, she took a piece of chalk (which she carried around in her apron for just this sort of situation!) and made a large cross on the front door, in order to remember the place. Then she went home to bed. Without trying to look in to spot the princess and see if she was being murdered or raped or whatever, because hey, big dog carried her off to some stranger's house, she's probably fine. So I guess she isn't that badass. Still though, grandma can run.
The princess was lucky though, I suppose, because she was not rapemurdered that night. Actually I don't know what happened to her when she was passed out in the sociopath soldier's room, the fairy tale sort of skips that part. Not really a good sign. But the dog carries her back to the castle in one piece, and in leaving the soldier's house the dog noticed the large cross on the door. So, being a smart magic dog, it took another piece of chalk (where the hell is all this chalk coming from?) and marked every other house with a similar cross, so the old woman could not find the right door.
The next morning, the old woman took the king and the queen and all of the officers of the household, to see where the princess had been. "Here is the house," said the king, when he came upon the first marked door.
"No, my dear husband, it must be that one," said the queen, pointing at the next door which also had a mark. "And here is another mark, and another!" And they saw that there were crosses on all the doors in every direction, and knew it would be useless to search any farther. But the queen was a very clever woman who could do much more than sit in a carriage and wave. That night she took some silk and cut it into squares, and sewed a neat little bag. She filled it with flour and put it around the princess's neck, and then she cut a small hole in the bag so that the flour would be scattered on the ground as the princess went along.
During the night, the dog came again and carried the princess on his back, and ran with her to the soldier, who loved her very much having met her three times now, with the story giving no indication that she was awake for any of these visits. He wished he were a prince so that he might have her for a wife. The dog never noticed the flour spilling from the bag, though, leaving a white trail all the way to the soldier's apartments. Therefore in the morning the king and queen found out where their daughter had been, and the soldier was taken up and put in prison (which is where the murderous lout rightly belongs, not that the story cares).
Oh, how dark and disagreeable it was as he sat there, and the people said to him, “To-morrow you will be hanged.” I don't know what people. Presumably the other prisoners, though I have no idea how they could find out the soldier's sentence without the soldier finding out at the same time. But whoever these people were, it was not very pleasant news, and besides, he had left the tinder-box at the inn and so his situation seemed altogether hopeless.
The next morning he could see through the iron bars over his little window, how all of the people were hurrying out of the town in order to see him hanged. The shoemaker's boy, in his leather apron and slippers, ran by so fast his slipper flew off and struck the wall where the soldier sat looking through the bars. "Hallo, boy," he called. "You need not be in such a hurry, for there will be nothing to see until I arrive there; but if you will run to the house where I have been living and bring me my tinder-box, you shall have four shillings. You must run quickly though, and put your best foot forward!" The shoemaker's boy liked the idea of four shillings, and so he ran very fast and fetched the tinder-box, which he gave to the soldier just in time; just as the boy returned and handed over the tinder-box, the king's guards came to escort the soldier to the gallows.
Outside the town a large gibbet had been erected, round which stood the king's guards and several thousands of people. The king and the queen sat on splendid thrones opposite to the judges and the whole council. The soldier stood on the ladder; but as they were about to place the rope around his neck, he said that an innocent request was often granted to a poor criminal before he suffered death. He wished very much to smoke a pipe, as it would be the last pipe he should ever smoke in the world. The king could not refuse this request, so the soldier took his tinder-box, and struck fire, once, twice, thrice,— and there in a moment stood all the dogs;—the one with eyes as big as teacups, the one with eyes as large as mill-wheels, and the third, whose eyes were like towers. “Help me now, that I may not be hanged,” cried the soldier.
At his command, the dogs fell upon the judges and councillors, seizing them by the limbs and tossing them many feet into the air so that when they fell down they were dashed to pieces. That's right, they were thrown so high they broke into bits when they hit the ground, like glass dolls or something.
"I will not be touched," said the king. Wishful thinking, probably. And ineffective, because the largest dog seized him as well as the queen and threw them after the others. Seeing this, the guards and all the people were very afraid, and cried "Good soldier, you shall be our king, and marry the beautiful princess."
So they placed the soldier in the king’s carriage, and the three dogs ran on in front and cried “Hurrah!” and the little boys whistled through their fingers, and the guards presented arms. The princess came out of the copper castle, and became queen, which was very pleasing to her. The wedding festivities lasted a whole week, and the dogs sat at the table, and stared with all their eyes.
The moral of this story: Kill everyone who opposes you in order to become rich and scare the population into giving you ultimate power, and everything will work out happily for all involved.
As delightful as this entire story is, I think my very favourite part is right at the end, with the princess. Just imagine the story from her point of view. She has a few odd dreams, her mom makes her wear a bag of flour to bed, and then the creepy dude from her dreams shows up at her castle and the entire town is insisting she marry him, because he's after killing the king and queen so they want him to be the new king, which can only happen if she is married to him. Oh, and he's got three dog-monsters with freaky eyes with him too. Well gee, why wouldn't she want to be sold off, without any input or warning, to the guy who murdered her parents and a dozen other people, and terrorized the people into naming him king in order to spare their own lives? But her only reaction is, "Oh cool, now I'm the queen!" Classic fairy-tale logic. I love it.
"That is a very pretty story indeed," said the queen. Fearing the prophecy of her daughter marrying a common soldier, she had one of the old ladies of the court sent to the princess's bedside that night, to discover whether it was truly a dream or if it was something else.
The soldier longed very much to see the beautiful princess again, so that night he summoned the dog to fetch her and to run with her as quickly as ever it could. But the old woman pulled on "water boots," whatever they are, and ran after just as quickly as the dog could run. Hey, this old woman is badass. I hope the soldier doesn't behead her. When the old woman found that the dog carried the princess to a large house, she took a piece of chalk (which she carried around in her apron for just this sort of situation!) and made a large cross on the front door, in order to remember the place. Then she went home to bed. Without trying to look in to spot the princess and see if she was being murdered or raped or whatever, because hey, big dog carried her off to some stranger's house, she's probably fine. So I guess she isn't that badass. Still though, grandma can run.
The princess was lucky though, I suppose, because she was not rapemurdered that night. Actually I don't know what happened to her when she was passed out in the sociopath soldier's room, the fairy tale sort of skips that part. Not really a good sign. But the dog carries her back to the castle in one piece, and in leaving the soldier's house the dog noticed the large cross on the door. So, being a smart magic dog, it took another piece of chalk (where the hell is all this chalk coming from?) and marked every other house with a similar cross, so the old woman could not find the right door.
The next morning, the old woman took the king and the queen and all of the officers of the household, to see where the princess had been. "Here is the house," said the king, when he came upon the first marked door.
"No, my dear husband, it must be that one," said the queen, pointing at the next door which also had a mark. "And here is another mark, and another!" And they saw that there were crosses on all the doors in every direction, and knew it would be useless to search any farther. But the queen was a very clever woman who could do much more than sit in a carriage and wave. That night she took some silk and cut it into squares, and sewed a neat little bag. She filled it with flour and put it around the princess's neck, and then she cut a small hole in the bag so that the flour would be scattered on the ground as the princess went along.
During the night, the dog came again and carried the princess on his back, and ran with her to the soldier, who loved her very much having met her three times now, with the story giving no indication that she was awake for any of these visits. He wished he were a prince so that he might have her for a wife. The dog never noticed the flour spilling from the bag, though, leaving a white trail all the way to the soldier's apartments. Therefore in the morning the king and queen found out where their daughter had been, and the soldier was taken up and put in prison (which is where the murderous lout rightly belongs, not that the story cares).
Oh, how dark and disagreeable it was as he sat there, and the people said to him, “To-morrow you will be hanged.” I don't know what people. Presumably the other prisoners, though I have no idea how they could find out the soldier's sentence without the soldier finding out at the same time. But whoever these people were, it was not very pleasant news, and besides, he had left the tinder-box at the inn and so his situation seemed altogether hopeless.
The next morning he could see through the iron bars over his little window, how all of the people were hurrying out of the town in order to see him hanged. The shoemaker's boy, in his leather apron and slippers, ran by so fast his slipper flew off and struck the wall where the soldier sat looking through the bars. "Hallo, boy," he called. "You need not be in such a hurry, for there will be nothing to see until I arrive there; but if you will run to the house where I have been living and bring me my tinder-box, you shall have four shillings. You must run quickly though, and put your best foot forward!" The shoemaker's boy liked the idea of four shillings, and so he ran very fast and fetched the tinder-box, which he gave to the soldier just in time; just as the boy returned and handed over the tinder-box, the king's guards came to escort the soldier to the gallows.
Outside the town a large gibbet had been erected, round which stood the king's guards and several thousands of people. The king and the queen sat on splendid thrones opposite to the judges and the whole council. The soldier stood on the ladder; but as they were about to place the rope around his neck, he said that an innocent request was often granted to a poor criminal before he suffered death. He wished very much to smoke a pipe, as it would be the last pipe he should ever smoke in the world. The king could not refuse this request, so the soldier took his tinder-box, and struck fire, once, twice, thrice,— and there in a moment stood all the dogs;—the one with eyes as big as teacups, the one with eyes as large as mill-wheels, and the third, whose eyes were like towers. “Help me now, that I may not be hanged,” cried the soldier.
At his command, the dogs fell upon the judges and councillors, seizing them by the limbs and tossing them many feet into the air so that when they fell down they were dashed to pieces. That's right, they were thrown so high they broke into bits when they hit the ground, like glass dolls or something.
"I will not be touched," said the king. Wishful thinking, probably. And ineffective, because the largest dog seized him as well as the queen and threw them after the others. Seeing this, the guards and all the people were very afraid, and cried "Good soldier, you shall be our king, and marry the beautiful princess."
So they placed the soldier in the king’s carriage, and the three dogs ran on in front and cried “Hurrah!” and the little boys whistled through their fingers, and the guards presented arms. The princess came out of the copper castle, and became queen, which was very pleasing to her. The wedding festivities lasted a whole week, and the dogs sat at the table, and stared with all their eyes.
The End.
The moral of this story: Kill everyone who opposes you in order to become rich and scare the population into giving you ultimate power, and everything will work out happily for all involved.
As delightful as this entire story is, I think my very favourite part is right at the end, with the princess. Just imagine the story from her point of view. She has a few odd dreams, her mom makes her wear a bag of flour to bed, and then the creepy dude from her dreams shows up at her castle and the entire town is insisting she marry him, because he's after killing the king and queen so they want him to be the new king, which can only happen if she is married to him. Oh, and he's got three dog-monsters with freaky eyes with him too. Well gee, why wouldn't she want to be sold off, without any input or warning, to the guy who murdered her parents and a dozen other people, and terrorized the people into naming him king in order to spare their own lives? But her only reaction is, "Oh cool, now I'm the queen!" Classic fairy-tale logic. I love it.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Good advice, doc.
My sister had to get stitches a couple of weeks ago. Her bike fell on her or something and gouged her leg open. It kinda looked like a zombie bite or something, it was pretty rad. Luckily for the world it was not a zombie bite, it was just an assassin bike that was bad at its job.
She had to go back to the doctor the other day to get the stitches removed, and apparently one fell out or something. Or at least, he shaved off the scab that had grown around it and couldn't find it under the scab. So either it fell out or it's still in her leg somewhere. Apparently the doctor told her, "I think it fell out, but it might be still in there. If your leg gets a massive infection and starts smelling and is all pussy and gross for weeks and you can't figure out why, come back and we'll look for it then."
Great. Exactly what you want to hear from your doctor. Take two and come back when you ooze pus.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Sometimes people suck.
An open letter to some of the more irritating customers of the store we were doing a job for a few weeks ago:
Just for future reference, the next time you try to enter a store from the exit door, and you see a couple of people in flagman vests and hard hats standing on ladders fiddling with wires from the nonfunctional automated doors? It might not kill you, much to your surprise, if you were to enter through the working Entrance door about five feet to your left, clear of any obstructions.
Also, if the Exit doors have been pulled shut and powered down while people work on them, and while the Entrance door that you should be using anyway is working perfectly fine (again, just five feet to your left!), please do not physically pull the Exit door open. Perhaps it didn't occur to you that it had been closed for a reason, but maybe the ladder leaning against it and the people obviously working on the door wiring should have been a sign.
If after becoming fed up with the previous store customers the aforementioned vested-and-helmeted workers create a barricade of lawn chairs to deter people like - well, to put it bluntly, people like you - please do not shove the lawn chairs aside and try to pull the Exit doors open so you can enter the store. As I said, the functional Entrance doors are five feet to your left, and labeled in large, bright green letters. I apologize for inconveniencing you with this arduous detour.
Finally, when the nonfunctional closed barricaded Exit doors have been further decorated with a hastily made sign saying "Please Use Other Door <------" scrawled in Sharpie on a scrap of printer paper. When you came up to the door, gaped uselessly at the sign, and then turned to me saying "Uhh, can you open the door? I can't get in." I just wanted you to know that the pause before I told you to try the Entrance door to the left wasn't because I was trying to understand your question. I was just desperately hoping to spontaneously develop some dark magical power with which to strike you down. Sorry again for the inconvenience.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Maybe I shouldn't be allowed to cook.
I destroyed another pot today. I'm not very good at this whole kitchen cooking thing. I'm not even normal-makes-food-taste-gross bad cook, I'm like, bend-the-laws-of-physics-to-make-things-impossibly-terrible kitchen destructor. Case in point, I melted a stainless steel pot.
Granted, it probably wasn't actually a steel pot. It was sold to us as one, but considering the whole melty-ness of it, Dad says it probably has an aluminum bottom. Still though, I didn't know pots could do that before today.
I was only trying to make spaghetti! Unfortunately, my attention span is.....less than great. Actually my attention span might be non-existant. I was thinking about how absolutely starving I am, and was like "There's sauce in the fridge, I'll put on spaghetti! Spaghetti is awesome!" So I fill a pot with water, and put in about twice as much as I needed on the reasoning that I'd probably forget about it and let half of it boil away before I remembered. This is standard practice for me when boiling water. It's not really a good omen.
So I go back to the living room, intending to reply to a message on MSN and then getting the noodles from the pantry. But of course I get distracted, and completely forget about being hungry and having the stove on. I only remember when Mom gets out of bed and goes, "Hey, what's that smell? Are you cooking something?" You know that moment where you can just feel the "oh shit" expression forming on your face, right before you drop everything and run? I do.
So I drop everything and run to the kitchen, and find that our new stove is apparently much hotter than our old stove. The water has completely boiled away, the bottom of the pot is glowing orange, and when I pick it up to move it off the hot burner only half of the bottom of the pot came with it. There's pools of molten metallic liquid on the burner, and the pot's got these silver stalactites hanging of the bottom.
So I try cooling the pot in a saucepan of water, but it doesn't seem to work very well. The pot keeps screaming at me. So I give up and put it upside-down on another pan on the back of the stove -- no, that one wasn't on, I only turned on the one burner this time. Mom and Dad come in and marvel at the incredible way I destroyed the kitchen this time. None of us even knew pots could do that! Especially not really good, supposedly stainless steel pots.
Luckily, my parents are awesome. Once I was at a friend's house and she accidentally let a pot boil dry. The pot wasn't really damaged, but her mom still freaked out about it and they got into a screaming match over it. Compare my parents, they see that I've completely ruined one of the best pots in the house and they immediately start laughing about it. As long as nothing's on fire, they're happy. And at least this time I didn't scorch a hole in the floor! I should tell that story someday, it's a pretty good one.
Long story short, Mom shrugged it off and went back to bed and Dad told me to get my camera because this was kind of totally awesome. Now I have a spiky-bottomed death-pot and an old Wowbutter jar with the giant lumps of metal we picked off of the burner that Mom told me to keep as a souvenir. And also pictures to prove it happened. I'd say this was probably my best cooking-fail yet.
So I go back to the living room, intending to reply to a message on MSN and then getting the noodles from the pantry. But of course I get distracted, and completely forget about being hungry and having the stove on. I only remember when Mom gets out of bed and goes, "Hey, what's that smell? Are you cooking something?" You know that moment where you can just feel the "oh shit" expression forming on your face, right before you drop everything and run? I do.
So I drop everything and run to the kitchen, and find that our new stove is apparently much hotter than our old stove. The water has completely boiled away, the bottom of the pot is glowing orange, and when I pick it up to move it off the hot burner only half of the bottom of the pot came with it. There's pools of molten metallic liquid on the burner, and the pot's got these silver stalactites hanging of the bottom.
Luckily, my parents are awesome. Once I was at a friend's house and she accidentally let a pot boil dry. The pot wasn't really damaged, but her mom still freaked out about it and they got into a screaming match over it. Compare my parents, they see that I've completely ruined one of the best pots in the house and they immediately start laughing about it. As long as nothing's on fire, they're happy. And at least this time I didn't scorch a hole in the floor! I should tell that story someday, it's a pretty good one.
Long story short, Mom shrugged it off and went back to bed and Dad told me to get my camera because this was kind of totally awesome. Now I have a spiky-bottomed death-pot and an old Wowbutter jar with the giant lumps of metal we picked off of the burner that Mom told me to keep as a souvenir. And also pictures to prove it happened. I'd say this was probably my best cooking-fail yet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)