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Good-Bye to The Mound









It looks way smaller than it is. 

Nice!



Please forgive my relative silence. I'm in the throes of writing a new novel, a slight departure from comedy. I found that people don't seem to like comedy today. Instead, they prefer romance, sci fi, biographies and porn.

How about a compilation of all in one? Yes, I'm writing some real sick shit. And I promise you it won't be funny, simply entertaining. Although my new author friend, Joel Krupa, writer of erotica and horror, respectively, read the first few chapters and found it funny.

Which leads me to a story that isn't - just to prove there are times I'm not funny.

After Hurricane Sandy, I amassed the tree limbs, branches, logs and brought them up to the road. As I did the 35 bags of leaves. At the road, I amassed tree limbs and branches that fell down there and tossed them onto the pile. The Town trucks came through and picked up my neighbors' detritus (especially the ones who retained people to cut trees down from their homes while they lounged in Costa Rica, Florida and Belize for the winter).

The first time I watched the Town truck pass my house. The second time, I ran up to the road and stopped them.

"Hey, what about me?"

Desultorily, they removed almost half. When they stopped, I screamed, "Why are you stopping? You cleaned up all my neighbors' mess!"

One of the guys said, "That's it for you."

"But you HAVE to," I insisted. "If not, people will dump their stuff here."

There's a twofold problem where I live. Most of the people don't know that the town dump, only a few miles away, accepts branches, leaves and logs all year round, free. And when these people retain landscapers not from this vicinity, they don't know as well. And the mound at the road becomes an invitation, nay, a beacon to these people to dump what they have instead of traveling dozens of miles.

The guy looked at me disparagingly and drove away.

The mound sat there for five months. The snows came and went, storms came and went. When the snow melted and the weather improved and I watched my seasonal neighbors' landscapers dump their leaves and branches in the nearby woods while I was there (knowing what was in store for me the moment I left my home for a few days), I approached my girlfriend, Jane.

"Can I borrow your truck? I need to bring the mess in front of my property to the dumps."

"Can you drive stick shift?"

That was a sticking point for me. I always wanted to drive stick shift and when I lived in France at nineteen, my boyfriend leant me his car. To condense a long story, it cost him a fortune. Then, six years ago, I wanted to purchase a new car, a stick shift and took driving classes. I don't know why the instructor shrieked like a ten year old girl, but I blame him for distracting me as I could never get the hang of it.

I stood in front of her, debating whether to lie. She saw that look cross my face and said, "I'll be over tomorrow."

The following day, she and I stood in front of the mound.

"Is it my imagination, or did it get bigger?" she asked.

"Come to think of it, it grew some."

"You ain't kidding." She pointed to a log as long as our bodies and said, "Something tells me you didn't put this here."

We laughed.

She suggested, "You need a backhoe. This is beyond redemption. Call Barry, he's in charge of the Highway."

I phoned Barry right there. "I'll send someone to see it," he recommended.

Instead, Jane and I put almost 30 bags of leaves in the truck and went to the dumps.

The following day, one of the guys from the Highway Department came over. He saw the stump of a tree on my property, looked at the mound and said, "It's all from your tree. It's only pine."

"Wait," I said. "Not all. You got maple, elm, birch and fir as well. Everyone's having a field day dumping here. The other day, I caught people dumping at the woods down the street."

He looked over and nodded. "Well, it's a fire hazard. If someone tosses a cigarette in there, you'll have a raging blaze in seconds."

Tears in my eyes, "I need help. I can't afford hiring a back hoe and wood chipper. If the Town truck took all of this away back in November, we wouldn't have this mess."

He nodded again. "I know. That was me."

Right at that moment, I wanted to clobber him.

He said, "I suggest you set it on fire right here the moment the no fire ban's lifted."

My jaw dropped. "It's right by other trees and my neighbor's brand new McMansion."

"That's what I would do. I'll get back to you in a few days, but I doubt if we can help you."

I spoke to the guys at my Fire Dept. who went ballistic. "That motherfucking asshole said WHAT?" was the common refrain.

A week came and went. At this stage, I noticed a squadron of rabbits emerging from the mound. I walked over to the Town Hall and went ballistic as well while leaving a message for the Mayor who scurried behind closed doors when he heard my voice.

"Tell the Mayor I'm going to the local newspapers about this one!"

An hour later, he phoned. "Hi Maura. I heard about this mound. Everyone in town has passed by. It grows and grows, it seems."

"As long as the landscapers prepare the seasonal homes, it'll continue to grow. My take is that we'll be able to see it from space soon."

"Well, it'll be cleared away by Friday."

"Thank you," I said, relieved. "It'll be nice to remove a potential death threat."

Thursday night, I attended a Republican cocktail, a get to know you function. As some of you readers know, I'm an accursed "R" which means that I'm a racist, bigot, anti-women, anti-rights, Islamaphobic, anti-gay mouth breather. {That's sarcasm. If you read my books, you'll find my beliefs are quite liberal. I just believe in a balanced budget and small government which is why I changed parties several years ago. Oh yeah, to defy the status quo as Democrats are the mean girls of today.} I already fit the profile: I'm tattooed, I live in the backwoods and yes, I support the Constitution.

I wanted to meet my Senator and Congressman which is why I attended the function. Because I need to get a job. I want them to help me in providing contacts as I'm tapped out. So, I dressed up in a sleeveless dress which shows off my tattooed arms to perfection.

I don't know where you live, dear Reader, but I live in a state predominately filled with Democrats. It wasn't surprising that there was a handful of people who attended this function and all of us were over 50. If that wasn't a death knell of the GOP, nothing else was.

The moment I stepped indoors, a Town official stopped me. "I heard that a road gang will clean up the Mound tomorrow morning. Shoot, I meant to drive by your place, I heard all about it!"

I was thrown. First off, I never knew the mass of tree limbs, branches, logs and whatnot had a nickname. I don't even have a nickname. For a moment there, I got jealous. Secondly, a road gang?

She continued, "Yeah, it won't be the Highway Department that'll clean up the Mound. So, if you see guys in orange suits with constables and guns at your front door tomorrow morning, don't be worried."

It's 7:25am Friday morning. I'm taking off shortly for this is something I don't want to witness.


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2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hey - Way to use "detritus" in a sentence!

Captain USpace said...

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Fun piece of small town intrique and excitement. I hope the 'Road Gang' showed up. Good luck with your Mound!

absurd thought
bureaucrats are different
if from small towns...
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