Today, on my way home from work, I saw a broken down taxi. The name on the side?
DEPENDABLE. I think not.
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A few weeks ago- (also on my way home from work), I passed a promotional vehicle for a local literacy campaign, which was funded by a grocery chain. Both the name of the campaign and the grocery chain were emblazoned across the vehicle in large, festive letters. Unfortunately, the vehicle chosen was a
SHORT BUS. Snort.
-----------------------------------------------------------------Chicken and Stapler (
aka Stapled Chicken - for
Brenda)
What started the game? A Joke - which was told thusly:
Why did the chicken cross the road?To get to the other side.Why did the TURKEY cross the road?'Cuz it was stapled to the chicken!Stupid, I know. But at two and a half years old, Nooze found it brilliant. She knew what a chicken was, and had been recently introduced to a stapler (not formally, as in how-do you do, but as in 'this is a stapler, the staples in it keep paper together').
Armed with this knowledge, Nooze was aware that, if staplers and staples kept paper together, then if STAPLED, a Turkey would be physically fastened to the chicken. It would have no choice but to cross the street.
This resulted in the creation of THE GAME. The gist as I remember it:
One person is the chicken. Unhappy about being forced to drag things across the road via staple, [s]he is RUNNING away. Thumbs and index fingers are pinching up and down in chicken/beak formation, protesting.
Naturally, this makes the other person the STAPLER. Obviously large (and therefore able to staple random items to live poultry), the stapler is chasing the chicken attempting to staple. Both arms are chopping up and down in an exaggerated fashion. Much screaming and screeching takes place during this game.
The game had a tendency to end abruptly, as Nooze discovered something more interesting to do...Like pick flowers, look at a book, or simply space out.
I wish that I could explain more about the game, but the rules were arbitrary. It was more about running around screaming than anything, and it was created in the mind of a toddler. And, of course, it all started with a joke.
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I pass a house each morning that has a horse in the front yard. Since I live in the country, this shouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. Yet it is. See, despite the fact that the horse is life-size,
it isn't real. I don't mean that it is imaginary; it is real in the physical sense - it just isn't alive.
This is also not to say that I have a neighbor with a gift for grand scale taxidermy. The horse is simply...Fake. I have never pulled over, gotten out of my car and gone to inspect it up close (I should) - but it appears to be made out of some sort of high grade plastic. Like the horses on a Merry Go Round. Only larger. And upright. And white.
Yet, despite the fact that this creature is truly not alive, it MOVES. Daily. From the front yard directly in front of the house, to the side, peeking through the trees. I slow down each time I pass the house, trying to remember where I saw the horse last.
Is this a trick? I wonder.
Is it a Code? Is the homeowner a spy,
or simply experimenting with external Feng Shui?It has become a game of sorts for me: Guess where it will be next! I win nothing, I lose nothing. But I have fun nonetheless.
I mentioned this bizarre (though entertaining) daily encounter with my friend, who I call Sgt. Buzzkill. Laughing, I told him about the large white moving horse.
" Of course it's code", he snarled.
"For drugs. He's obviously a dealer, telling buyers when and where the next shipment will arrive."When I asked why, he snapped.
"Don't be naive, Renn. White. Horse. He deals in Heroin."Of course.
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I probably shouldn't admit this, but...whatever. I completely adore
this guy. Especially
this song...and
this movie.
Labels: Mental Pictures
