Second, if you must leave them unattended because you need to make a run for basic food stuffs or die, remember to tie the pair in some soft chairs and start a two-hour tape of Beverly Hillbillies reruns. This will ensure no original thought processes occur and the gecko will be entertained. This sort of preventative action may sound a bit extreme, but I’m talking about dealing with the likes of Wild Willie and his sister-in-law, Dixie-the-Dense.
The following sad tale is why Wild Willie now eats his meals through a straw and has so much of his carcass in a cast that his brother uses him as the dining room table.
W.W. went to visit his brother in Palmer just about the same time all hell broke loose with the weather. When Willie arrived he found that his sibling was riding out the storm in Fairbanks. He asked Willie to hang around and make sure Dixie was OK. Willie agreed although he didn’t really relish the idea of sitting around the house watching her playing card games with her cat and losing.
The storm finally petered out leaving about three feet of snow on the roof and a loose chimney pipe. Our hero decided to “tend ta few things that needed fixin.”
It didn’t take him long to realize that the old snow had glaciated just before the new stuff hit and that he was trying to crawl up a skating rink. After completing a couple of stunning pirouettes and stopping himself from doing a half gainer off the roof by cleverly cleaving his crotch to a vent pipe, Willie decided he needed a safety rope. He found a hundred-footer and some ice cleats in an out-building then looked around for a good anchoring site. He decided the bumper of his beater pickup would do just fine. Once tied off, he cautiously made his way to the other side of the roof where he started pushing snow while safely tethered to the Ford.
Meanwhile Dixie became incensed when her cat whipped her at a game of Old Maid and decided to blow into town for a burger. She had parked her car near the barn but forgot to plug it in so the beast was dead. This made her even madder so she stalked over to Willie’s truck and fired it up without paying even two cents worth of attention. The old junker was in two-wheel drive so she just sat there spinning.
This had not gone unnoticed by W.W. who was screaming at the top of his lungs and trying to untie the rope. Dixie couldn’t hear the bellowing because Willie had a slight muffler problem, he didn’t have one. Well, ol’ Dix hangs in there and eventually starts to slowly move forward, this much to the chagrin of Willie who had latched onto a TV antenna.
Slowly he and the Color Vista II toppled in the direction of the struggling truck and Willie ended up going airborne into a colossal snowdrift.
It wasn’t over. He was dragged about 40 more feet until the brain stem behind the wheel looked in the rear view mirror and noticed her brother-in-law skijoring along behind her without the proper equipment and howling like a demented loon. Luckily he wasn’t hurt much because of the deep snow and slow speed of the truck. Dixie was even luckier because Willie was so exhausted that he was unable to close his hands around her throat.
So, you ask, “How did Wild Willie end up wearing enough body casting material to construct a one bedroom condo?” Well, after the boy cooled down, Dixie talked him into getting her car started. The old tank had an automatic transmission and a simple push wouldn’t do it. So he told her to go get his truck and put it in four-wheel drive. He explained that she would need to get up to around 30 miles an hour while she pushed him so the vehicle would kick over and start.
Willie waited patiently for her Denseness’ return and was about to go looking for her when down the driveway she came. Willie figures she was doing just under 30 when his pickup ate the rear end of the dead Pontiac.
Willie was the only thing that hit the end of the driveway. Dixie was buckled in and went unscathed. The cat wasn’t and was last seen passing Nome.
Lesson learned? You bet. Never tell a pal about a thing like this, especially, if he’s a slightly demented writer.
Nick can be reached at NCVarney@gmail.com. Please feel free to contact him if someone you know steps in it. He really likes to share.
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