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Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Pinky and the Mountain Men

The Mountain Men

The mountain men came today to get rid of the ‘snake pit’ (my neighbours’ description, not mine). Notice I used the apostrophe after the word ‘neighbours’ because it wasn’t just one set of neighbours who labelled it. It was at least two who have given vivid descriptions of red bellied blacks shimmying into their linen closets on a Sunday afternoon while they were casually reading the Sunday papers and sipping on a Cab Sav.

It seems the norm here.

As the mountain men cleared out our rainforest jungle, I stood at the back screen door, watching diligently for errant snakes who might daringly try to escape the tropical massacre across my backyard, akin to ‘whacking day’ on the Simpsons. 

It didn’t happen. Or if it did, I was too busy yelling at the Chihuahua for barking at the mountain men or distracted by making a cup of tea… who knows?

Anyway, there appear to be no snakes at all. But the mountain men did say that snakes like to live under rocks and there are a plethora of rocks in the now naked and exposed jungle. I also saw quite a lot of holes in the ground. 

My father assures me that snakes don’t dig holes because they can’t slither backwards so why would they dig a hole because they wouldn’t be able to get back out? But then I pictured in my mind a tunnel with a big turning circle at the bottom so I think my father is full of bullshit.

My father tells me quite a lot of lies actually.

We had to pay these mountain men a substantial amount of cash. Like… over three thousand dollars in cash. So that meant I had to go to the mountain bank and do a primitive style transaction where I had to write out a type of docket thing. What the…? 

 I haven’t done that for so fudging long! And I got really nervous. I thought the bank person might suspect me of nefarious dealings. She might have thought I was a crack whore cashing in my pimp’s weekly revenue or something it was such a large amount. I don’t know. Anyway, I gabbled a lot but she didn’t seem suspicious at all and I got away with it. She even called me ‘love’.

The good news is that Scotto and I, after laborious, heated discussions (and the happy realisation that we have no snakes), have decided to expand our family.

We are buying a duck…maybe a goose. We can’t decide.

Which one would you recommend?