Last time I left off with the old metal container being
carried off by the wolf pack as though they were a cannibal tribe carrying an
unwelcome guest in a giant stew pot to the sacrificial fire. Kidnapped and squished inside the tin can of
death I had no idea where the agitated hordes were taking me.
“Si se puedes!” yelled Chewy like a cheerleader. The swarm
of neighborhood locust heard his chant and cheered thinking he was egging them
on in his native Spanish. Up, up, up…
they excitedly lifted me precariously high over their heads in the
ex-baby-diarrhea-diaper-pail, turned hamper, turned sacrificial tribal-pot-of-torture
and imminent death. Thinking about the
mountain of stinky baby diapers my stomach heaved desperately wanting to
release all of its contents but my brain knew that trapped inside this dark,
small, airless space was a bad Idea. I could hear angels singing. I was going to
die, they were here to carry me home.
Wait!
It wasn’t angels…it was the Lennon Sisters practicing for
the Lawrence Welk show. The restless brood was carrying me off in the direction
of the Lennon’s house. That was all I knew at that moment!
The metal coffin crashed with a loud thud as they dropped my
ceremoniously to the ground in middle of the street. Were they going to leave me here to play
chicken with traffic? Blind and unable
to move I had a serious disadvantage. Was Tony going to electrocute the
container I was in…the mad scientist loved to play with electricity.
Mr. Steadman stood on the porch and yelled inside to Mrs.
Steadman, “Lock the doors; the Wolf Pack is on the move.” Peering out through the blinds she mumbled
back… “No wonder lions eat their young.”
Thump…. Thump…. Thump… Thump…. Thump… Several hands began tapping out a beat on my
metal container like a tribal war drum.
They giggled and laughed and began to sing along with the
rap-tap-tapping on my vessel of death. Then one of the boys (I think it was
Dooh-Dooh Pants) began to lead them in a chant that sounded like the witch’s
minions in the Wizard of Oz…
“Oh-Wee-Oh. Wee-Oh… Oh-Wee-Oh, Wee-Oh…”
On and on they droned along with the tribal rhythm being
pounded out on the lid of my latched container until someone kicked it onto its
side. Crash! Then, with a great shove, one
of the boys sent me - my container - the lid - the latch and all, sliding
sideways across the asphalt. The metal grated against the asphalt with a
horrible screech that sounded like Sister Godzilla’s fingernails against a
chalkboard, only a thousand times louder!
“Ughhhhhhhhhhhh,” I screamed, thinking this is how they were
going to kill me… they intended to slide me around the neighborhood until my
ears bleed and my brain explodes.
IF ONLY!
If only I knew what was going to happen next… I would have
wished this was the way they had conspired to kill me. If only.
Anyway, they shot me across the asphalt like an astronaut in
a cockeyed rocket launch…that went sideways. My metal container screeched until it
crashed to a halt with a colossal CLUNK striking something ginormous and solid
and heavy and metal. I didn’t know just how
frightened I should be...but began to get a clue when I heard all ten-thousand feet
hurriedly scramble away in a million directions as if they had seen King Kong. It was like a scene in an
Alfred Hitchcock horror film.
Even the
angelic voices from the Lennon House stopped singing. It was an ominous
sign that I felt deep in my bones. I had no idea just how diabolical the plan
was that they had hatched for the hamper and me.
That was until!
Until, I heard the dreadful and terrifying sound of Edna’s
screen door hinges screeching.
GOOSEBUMPS! Every
single hair on my arms and back of neck stood up in the sudden realization of
exactly where I was… My rusted burial sarcophagus had come to rest and was lodged
under the rear differential of Edna’s behemoth precious BUICK.
I screamed as I heard her frantic footsteps racing off her
wooden porch towards me.
“Help Edna, stop!” I wanted her to know that there was a
child stuck inside the putrid can that was stuck under her car. ‘Edna, Nooooooo…if you kill me, you’re breaking
the 5th commandment” I thought a dose of Catholic guilt might save my life,
until I heard her keys jiggling in the door. I WAS A GONNER!
They couldn't erase me at Salton Sea, so maybe this was their next chance.
Varoom
roared the engine to life…Her car jerked backwards as she hastily forced the
gear shift lever through reverse on the way to drive… creasing the hamper and
pinning me inside my tiny metal coffin under the heavy metal housing of her behemoth Buick’s rear end.
Tires squealing, can screeching, sparks flying and kid
screaming. The angry grouch tore down
the street in her 18 ton battleship with my hamper of death heating up and
shooting a forty foot rooster tail of sparks.
Talk about blazing saddles... my stinky death container was getting red hot and my Swedish little derriere was hotter than molten lava... Krakatoa (east of java) was about to erupt.
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