Thursday, May 28, 2009

I Married an Aaardvark

This afternoon I received an anonymous letter containing a blank piece of paper. It's the first message I haven't found boring. I read it three times, then stuck it on the fridge.

I’m not full of energy in the morning. I can hear my next door neighbour outside talking to the postman. Their conversation is about the weather. What would people talk about if there wasn't any weather? I remember at school being asked by my geography teacher to name one type of cloud and I was completely flummoxed. I was immediately removed from the class, poured into a cold large bowl, and stirred briskly with a fork. I lost consciousness as I was poured over slices of cooked boiled potato.

‘Do you think it will rain?’ ‘Not sure, but it might.’ ‘Have you heard the weather forecast?’ ‘No, but they never get it right. Too many variables.’ No wonder the mail always arrives with a splutter.

I've been having odd nightmares recently. One is about a film: The Wizard of Oz. Those bleeding witches and winged monkeys flying around my room with a bloody tornado. The other nightmare is about my wife starting to resemble an aardvark. Her hair was cut short recently and for the first time I can see she has extremely long ears. Also, her tongue has become long and sticky so 'French kissing' is a definite no-no.

Wait a minute! My wife is turning into a bloody aardvark! That would explain why she spends long periods in our back garden, during the night, digging burrows and eating ants and termites. Our family hasn't enjoyed a warm meal in days. What can the neighbours think? My wife and I are flying to France next week. How will we explain her passport photograph? Her new dietary requirements?

I discussed the position with a neighbour who is a 'Scalpel Slave'. She's had so many nose jobs her snout now sits on her face where her left ear once resided. When I asked her if she thought my wife might benefit from cosmetic surgery my neighbour suggested that my wife and I should go together and get the same package. I left her ranting in the street about tummy tucks, eyelash transplant surgery, and getting extra toes.

She had the audacity to shout after me, 'What else do you think I should get done?!' Is it possible that a great number of the inhabitants of this world are crazy, leaning in that direction, or stumbling blindly towards a 'genuine' hell on earth?

Reflection: Sometimes I feel like a little brick in a large building, then I just opt for a large bucket of KFC chicken, grab me a few dozen 'booster drinks' and spin like hell on my car swivel seat for days to burn up calories. I expect to be awake for at least a week, anyway. I want to be supercharged, super-alert, super-cool, superman, and ... I need to grow my damn hair back.

Researchers say if a person drinks about 'eighty cups of coffee' a day (!?!) it 'may' work. They wouldn't lie, or try to deceive us, would they? Today I'm on my sixtieth cup of coffee and I can't locate a single hair on my head. And the worst part? I can't close my eyes and I'm scaring the kids half to death.