Sauerkraut and I are back at our cabin in the woods. It is our favourite place to be, our sanctuary from life, our place to re-energize our minds, our bodies, our souls. Well, maybe not so much our minds because I am beginning to worry that Sauerkraut has been spending way too much time with me. His stories and his imagination are beginning to rival mine. He has taken it upon himself to help me with my blog post ideas. He is also starting to see stories emerge from the mundane and from the tiniest of details. The world may need to heed warning now that there are two deranged minds floating about in the universe. Run, run, while you still have a chance!
Last night, we were enjoying a quiet mosquito free evening. Sauerkraut was sitting out on the deck while I was curled up in my comfy chair reading in the porch. All of a sudden, Sauerkraut let out a hoot and a holler.
Me: What the hell?
Sauerkraut: Did you see that?
Me: See what?
Sauerkraut: That hawk swoop down and nearly carry me away.
Sauerkraut: Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a hawk but something definitely swooped by me.
Me: If you say so.
Sauerkraut: I know what it was. It was a beavernado.
Me: A what?
Sauerkraut: A beavernado. You know, like that sharknado movie. Only we are at the camp so it was a beavernado.
Me: How much have you had to drink?
Sauerkraut: Not much. Honestly. I’m just trying to help you with your next blog post.
Me: The Cabbage Patchsters are not going to want to hear about a beavernado.
Sauerkraut: How do you know? How do you really know anything?
Me: For the love of God and all things holy. I know
shit stuff. They are not going to want to read about a beavernado.
Sauerkraut: What if we had proof that one happened here?
Me: Just how do you plan on pulling that off? We may have a swamp nearby but we definitely haven’t had a tornado go through.
Sauerkraut: Here. This is how.
Sauerkraut: Tell the Patchsters how I beat the gigantic beaver out of the tornado and skinned him alive.
Sauerkraut: They’ll use their imaginations especially if they’ve watched any of the Sharknado movies. They don’t have to know that I found this skull down by the beaver damn. You know, when I found him, he had his two front teeth but they must have fallen out on the trip back to the camp.
Me: Poor toothless baby beaver skull.
Sauerkraut: Don’t pretend to care. You don’t care at all.
Me: I do so.
Sauerkraut: Do not.
Sauerkraut: Wait a minute. I’ll be right back.
Tick tock. Tick tock. The suspense is killing me.
Sauerkraut: Look! Look what I did.
Me: What are you? Five?
Me: He can’t love it. He’s dead.
Sauerkraut: Can’t you use your imagination just this once?
Me: For a dead beaver?
Me: Thank the lord baby Jesus from up the street we never had children together. Can you imagine what they would be like?
Sauerkraut: They’d be wonderful.
Now, aren’t y’all glad I didn’t give you directions to the camp? This is what you’d all be exposed to:
Beaver skulls with false teeth. Sauerkraut losing his mind. Partridge feathers sticking out of his hat. Taxidermied deer hanging on the walls. Deranged minds competing for the best blog post ideas. Oh. My. Word.
And to think we have one whole week here. Together. Just the two of us. Plus three cats. And one beaver skull and a few dead animals glaring down at us from the walls.
One of us may not survive this week of isolation together especially if the blog post competition gets too intense. (My bet is on the beaver whisperer.) Stay tuned, if you dare. There may be more than just beavernados tornadoing from up here …