Snippet from band practice: disposal stories

I know. It's not really a band practice; it's a band rehearsal. But who ever says, "I've got band rehearsal" and maintains any level of cool at all? Nobody. It's fucking band practice and semantics be damned.

Yes, I really wrote that.

And now the snippet.

mouse

Reticula: [The band sits around my dining room table taking a break.] I had a really weird dream last night. It was the middle of the night -- in my dream, I mean -- and I walked into a kitchen, heard scrabbling in the sink, and realized a mouse was trapped in one side of the sink. I was trying to figure out how to get it out of there, and it started jumping, trying to get out. So I thought about getting something to put over the sink so it couldn't jump out and run around the rest of the house pooping everywhere. I thought about getting a big piece of mat board to cover the sink, but then I realized it wouldn't solve the problem to just trap it there. I needed to kill it. So I wondered how I could get it to go into the garbage disposal and .....

Joe: It takes longer than you think.

Chicken Grrrl: Euwwww. You killed a mouse in a garbage disposal?

Joe: No, I didn't say that. I just said it takes longer than you think to kill something with a garbage disposal.

Reticula: I thought it seemed like a humane enough way to dispose of a rodent. How long could it take? They have tiny bones.

Joe: I'm telling you it takes longer than you think. I have experience with killing animals. Remember we had rabbits and I froze one and roasted the other .... I didn't mean to do that.

Reticula: Yeah, but you didn't put them in the garbage disposal did you? Tell me you didn't do that .... 

Joe: No, they were already dead. I didn't need to.

Chicken Grrrl: This is so gross. Just tell us what you killed in a garbage disposal. I hope it wasn't a mammal.

setuptank.com

Joe: It was a plecostomus. 

Chicken Grrrl: What the hell is a plecostomus?

Reticula: It's a sucker fish. It sucks the algae off the sides of an aquarium.

Joe: Yeah, and they get really big. And I think it somehow got rid of all the other fish. It had to die.

Reticula: They get as big as the aquarium size allows, but they don't hurt other fish.

Joe: I don't know about that, but this one got big and it was the last one left. [Pause for a sip of cheap wine.] I think maybe I just got tired of taking care of the aquarium so it had to go. The point is it takes longer than you think.

Reticula: I had one get really big and I just took it to a pet store and they were glad to take it. Some people are looking for bigger fish ....

Joe: Oh. I guess I didn't consider that option. Like I said though, it takes longer than you think.

Reticula: Even when I woke up I couldn't think of a better way to take care of the problem. It had to be the garbage disposal. It would be pretty quick, wouldn't it? I mean the death?

Joe:  I'm telling you, it takes longer than you think.

[Chicken Grrrl: Head on table.]

Reticula: What the hell would you have done with a mouse that was trying to jump out of the sink? You can't just pick up a mouse with your hands. That would be worse than the garbage disposal.

Joe: I'm just saying ....

Reticula: I know. It takes longer than you think.

Joe: Should I tell you about the vicious hamster now?

Chicken Grrrl: That box of wine isn't empty, is it? I need another glass before we start practicing again.

Mmm. Richard Gere.
(source: imdb.com)

Note: Because this is a snippet, I didn't include the discussion we had about how people put gerbils up their poop chutes for sexual pleasure. Or rather about how Dan Savage says nobody really does that before he describe how people would do it if they did do it. Somehow that's worse than putting a live mouse or plecostomus in a garbage disposal. I'll sum it up by saying it takes longer than you think to safely set a gerbil loose in your ass. Safe for you, I mean. The gerbil was never safe once it was destined to travel up in somebody's colon.


(Also, no matter what you've heard. Richard Gere did not put a gerbil in his ass. That is an urban legend.)

The real gin and juice blues

I don't want to write this post. I've been putting it off for 3 days now. I know putting it into words won't change anything. I know not putting it into words won't either. So I'll just write it.

Melvin died early Sunday morning.* He was a passenger in a car that crossed several lanes of traffic and ran head-on into a pickup truck. He and the driver died there. Careflight came for them, but the coroner left with them instead.

I saw photos of the wreck Sunday morning before church. The car was crushed. I thought, How awful. Nobody walked away from that car. I didn't know it was Melvin who wasn't going to walk away. I don't think we'll ever know what happened that night. The police said neither speed nor alcohol was involved, which means the driver wasn't drinking. Melvin was never sober, but he also never drove. Not after his doctor had his license pulled.

Every time I went out Sunday I expected to hear Melvin's voice, but our part of the street was quiet. He came and went a lot though; sometimes 5 or 6 different people would pick him up and then bring him home in a day. I looked for him, but I wasn't worried that I didn't see him.

The next day his landlord Paul knocked on my door to tell me he was dead. The police couldn't find Melvin's daughter, and Paul wanted to know if I had her number. I didn't.

I'll write more about that day, but not tonight. It's been a hard week, and today is only Wednesday.

There's a big gaping silence over there across the street where Melvin used to sit on his porch and holler to me as I walked to my van, "Baby, how you doin'?" And I'd reply, "I'm fine." And he'd say, "I know you are! I love you, baby. You know I love you, don't you?" And I'd say, "I know you do." And he'd say, "Where you goin'?" And I'd say, "To a party (or downtown or to the store or just out)." And he'd say, "Can I go wit' you?" And I'd say, "No." And he'd say, "That's OK, baby. You be careful. I still love you though. I can't lie. I still love you." And I'd say, "I love you too."

And I did. I did love him too, in spite of myself and in spite of himself. He watched out for me. And sometimes I watched out for him too.

Sometimes he really annoyed me. And .... I don't think I ever annoyed him. He just wasn't like that.

I'll write more about Melvin later. Tonight I'm struggling to see the page through my tears, and I'm tired. Grief makes me tired. The emptiness out there on the street makes me tired.


*If you don't know who Melvin is was, maybe you haven't been reading here long. I've written about him many times. Here's a list of the most relevant posts. I hope you'll want to  know him better.

"Gin and Juice Blues"
On the Radio
Life on My Street
It's Just Not There
Rick and Mitt
Wednesday Night After Karaoke (a poem)

Wordless Wednesday: Cookie Monster Shoes

(Source: http://anikartistique.deviantart.com/art/cookie-monster-shoes-12-322448576)

Wordless Wednesday: A day when I can't think of anything nice to say, so I post a photo and say nothing at all, just like my mama taught me. This can't be sustained. (I would so wear these shoes, if they came in my size. My shoes are bigger than my hands though, so these probably wouldn't fit me. It has become painfully obviously I'm Cinderella's Sasquatch-footed step-sister.)