Monday, September 04, 2006

Labor Day Weekend

Labor Day Weekend in Beautiful Downtown Keene
I've been listening to a dog in a car parked outside who has no task in his life more important than to bark at every passing threat to the family truck. Everything that passes by is a threat. I don't know if the hours of barking gives the dog a headache. I don't know if dogs can get a headache. I know I can. I am.

Saturday Night in Keene. Christine picks me up. Christine gives me a hug. The spikes of her newly done lesbian brush-cut hair stab me in the chin. This turns out to be the most exciting part of the night. We go looking for trouble. We go looking for trouble by following Christines' plan of parking in front of a house near the newly-built police station to watch for police cars with flashing blue-lights to follow. After thirty-five minutes of watching and waiting, while Christine inhales daintily nibbles a few dozen handful of grapefuit-flavored candies, two police cars speed by. We follow them. We park crookedly in one of the Keene State College parking lots - where, for about an hour, we watch the two police cars arrange the towing of a small red pickup truck. We don't actually see the truck being towed...we're 150 yards away across the intersection. But we watch the flashing blue police lights. In time, we (Christine) run low on the grapefruit-flavored candies. We spot another TWO police cars. They head towards downtown. We follow. They appear to turn left onto West Street. Stymied by the red light, we lose them. We park downtown. We hope for another episode of aunt-fucker and his little pudge-ball of a wife fighting. But-alas-nothing. We part company dejected.

Sunday Night. Eight PM. (Christine's version of early-morning. Christine's a night-owl 'till school re-opens.) Eight PM. Christine picks me up. Well, actually, I'm waiting outside since about seven-thirty - but, for Christine, being there within thirty-five minutes is pretty good. It seemed that Christine broke a glass in the bathroom.....then spent logical time picking up the pieces and Christines' own special time assigning blame for the accident to Chloe. We go to Price Chopper. I ride a power cart. Christine walks with her cart. (Consequently, I wind-up the evening refreshed, and Christine spends Monday abed with kneezles.) We shop, play, cause trouble, for about two hours. A fun evening. (Though I am pointed NOT mentioning the 1.10 that I spent calling Christine from my cellphone when she abandoned me to re-trace our shopping-path in order to buy feminine-hygene products for Chloe. Nor will I write about the dastardly trick where Christine took advantage of my kindly male-nature by pretending to be upset with me on the way over. ----- Even though Christine has a profound history of flipping out for the most sketchy of reasons.)


Blogger chloe said...

I am offended. Deeply offended.

1:38 PM  

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