Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Trapped in a House of Teenagers

Well the mutants are dwelling around our den again in great numbers. When I seek asylum at my boat for the weekend and return it reminds me of Little Red riding Hood sampling all the bears beds or The Wreck Of The Hesperus as my father used to say. Well there are the big wheels torn apart in the garage and the little plastic VW that has been lowered and the front wheels replaced with wider ones. Tools and parts laying everywhere, an extension cord running from the garage through the kitchen into the front room to power a PlayStation in front of the big screen. Outside the bean bags have made it to the trampoline and discarded energy drink are everywhere and the kitchen trash is full of fast food wrappers and there are pizza boxes with only the remains of unwanted garlic and Italian peppers laying on the counter top. This diet is remarkable as none of them are under six foot and lean still growing some with great abs and pecs. One's back is covered with recent ugly road rash after he had rolled the plastic VW sliding down a steep hill. Yesterday most of their time was spent riding bicycles over the dirt jumps my mutant son had built earlier in the year when it was cooler and now they had been filming again until it got too hot. So hot, dirty and sweaty they returned to the house fans and a/c to review the filming of today and that led to them watching a box of Sony Hi8 MP tapes made several years ago before he discovered editing which included them as a cast of twelve year old's crashing skateboards, bikes, shopping carts and mooning that could have used an Amtrak.
Then the backyard trampoline became the center of attention for a while collecting more jumpers through the open front door, then the portable disease moved towards the garage but the lord and master has sold one of their favorite little race motorcycle (it was so quiet) that they frequently abused which led to the use of other ones not so peaceful. The mutant whose back looked like a recent flogging, I also had taught to ride a motorcycle a couple of years ago, now wanted to ride one of the dirt bikes in the garage. He had just finished high school in June, has a job working in a tire store so maybe I could sell a dirt bike to him. Some of these mutants have been hanging around since grade school and follow my instructions just like they would from their own parents and ignore me in the same manner like my order "no wheeling" and his later shit eating grin "did you see my wheelies?" Somehow I manage to stay off the motorcycles and declined their well thought-out challenges and ventured out only on my skateboard. Things went down hill after that as the dog was pulling me on my longboard (skateboard) and she stopped and I got off to chase the board down the hill into the next street.
The next day the couch was covered with one large mutant wrapped in a very old Sesame Street Quilt with his cell phone plugged into its charger so he would not loose contact with his text message world even while sleeping all morning long. Another body, whose houses a school of tape worms that can never be happy, told me that his life purpose was to eat all of our foods with expired dates. I then offered him a bag of unopened Traders Joe's low fat pretzel sticks which he declined since there were not any dip to go with it. During the day the threat was raised to turn the main house breaker off if caught them watching Jerry Springer. Threats seldom work as later the former mayor from Ohio was on again without any watchers so I hid the remote. Then another mutant broke through the barrier placed in front of the front door armed with a stack of horror flicks. This (The Devil's Rejects by Rod Zombie) actually kept them quiet and scared for the length of the film but caused more hunger that required a run to get ice cream. Later after finishing their Baskin and Robbins they returned empty handed and started moving the big screen around until they broke the cable connector.
Now the cable repair requires a crimping tool and a garage search or a trip to the hardware store.
But an easier path is no more TV and no more Jerry.







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