Prank'd

 

In television and movies, the go to prank for the autumn season, venturing closer to Old Hallows Eve, is toilet papering or TPing a house, or more grotesquely, egging someone's house.  Their both terrible pranks, the latter being the worse of the two, and something that I've never partook in.  Frankly, I doubt I possess the dexterity to accurately throw a full roll of toilet paper over a tree or someone's roof.  The opportunity for such delinquency has never arose, nor would I partake in it, given I don't exactly understand the whole point of the prank.

So..., we spend our own money on expensive toilet paper to throw onto someone else's house and/or into their trees?  No thanks.  There's no logic in that.  I failed to see the logic back then, when I was a kid, just witnessing this stupid shit on TV or hearing wild tales from friends.  Very illogical, to quote Mr. Spock, until today.

Today, August 27th, 2923, I drove past a house that already had Christmas decorations set out on their front lawn.  Nothing subtle, either, but rather, giant blown up figures donning scarves, toques and mittens.  Yesterday, I drove by a house that was in the process of filling their front yard with Halloween decorations.  It was both of these times that I realized: These people need to have their houses egged.

A couple of weeks before the holiday is one thing.  A couple of months ahead, is ridiculous.  If a home owner wishes to take advantage of the amazing weather we will be experiencing over the coming couple of weeks, to climb a ladder and hook up their Christmas lights, that's acceptable.  Doing that shit in the winter..., ya may as well sign your own death warrant, but doing that now, is okay.  Just don't keep the lights on past the testing phase or, you too, will be added to the list of those who deserve to get pranked by idiotic kids.

Buy all the holiday decorations that you want now, if the price is right, but wait until the appropriate times, people.  Don't be an asshole.  Nobody likes an asshole.  And if you choose not to abide by these words, don't be calling the authorities when you get your house egged.  Don't call because you deserve the punishment you get.

Trouser Snake

At first mention of the words, trouser snake, one's imagination goes to a male's genitalia, which in this instance you'd be mistaken.  To what I refer to in this blog, today, is going to be much much worse and far more offensive.  So be warned before reading on, and if you indeed choose to continue reading, you've been forewarned and cannot blame anyone but yourself.  So that being said, I will continue my tawdry tale.

Last weekend was Thanksgiving for Canada.  I don't know why our Thanksgiving Day is more than a month prior to that of the U.S.  Canada probably wanted a long weekend in October, is what many of us have speculated.  I know in the last few years, there was a holiday proposed for February, although I don't think it's recognized in all the provinces.  (I'm talking about YOU, Quebec.  You suck, Quebec!)

So after stuffing myself full at my mother's house, she was gracious enough to send me home with a mountainous amount of left overs.  I don't know how much, per se, but upon warming it up the other night, I'd speculate that it was, at least, a pound in weight.  The left overs contained pretty much everything that had been available at the dinner table, except for the beets, which my mother announced she wouldn't include out of fear it would turn everything purple in colour.

So Thursday night was the night I'd decided to heat up and devour this huge meal.  This was not the easiest of tasks, by any measure, but like a trooper, I forced it all down as I watched wrestling (TNA Impact Wrestling) on Spike TV.  Later that night, I suspect due to the tryptophan in my system, I slept one of the most restful nights in a long long time.  I hadn't been sleeping very well in the nights preceding, so the slumber was welcome.

The next day, work went on as usual.  No issues.  No nothing, other than the usual setbacks and shit.  After work I needed to speed across town to sign some documents, then afterwards, I headed to the Home Depot, in search of a specific tool that I want to purchase for my brother-in-law for Christmas.  While looking around, I suddenly found myself needing to visit the washroom.  I don't normally like to use public facilities, as they are usually pretty f*cking gross, but this being a newer Home Depot location and in a decent part of town, I didn't think the washroom would be in too terrible of disarray, and quickly hobbled in it's direction.  Plus, judging from the impending doom, whether or not the bathroom was a disaster, I had one locked in the chamber and the safety switch was slipping.

Sadly, someone was in the handicapped stall, the spot I usually like to occupy as it has lots of leg room.  I don't necessarily need to stretch out as I "drop the kids off at the pool", but it's like a life jacket on a boat.  It's nice to have, just in case.  So I squeezed myself into the other available stall and unleashed the fury.

Actually it wasn't so furious, thank god!  Nothing is worse than having an atrocious bowel movement and having to clean up the mess with that sandpaper they call toilet paper.  Am I right, people?  It's like wiping with a cheese grater.  It might do the trick, but it doesn't feel good at all, nor are you left in a very happy place afterward.  But thankfully, this was not one of those horrific occasions.  Nope!  This one slipped out quite nicely.  Like a basketball through a hoop with nothing but net.  Phoof!!!

I took care of the aftermath and turned to flush when I noticed the gargantuan specimen looking back up at me from the porcelain bowl.  I'm not bragging, nor is this anything to be proud of, but I am a little impressed at the slick torpedo that was laid to rest in the tiny toilet stall at the Home Depot.  By my estimation, it had to be between 14 to 16 inches in length, and it wasn't coiled.  It was straight as the crow flies, nestled comfortably at the bottom of the bowl.  I was almost tempted to take a picture of it with my phone, but quickly decided against it as I don't know of anyone who would be as impressed with this feat as I was (and am).

I flushed and forever lost the evidence of my visit to the Home Depot, but the memory is still in my head.  I remember leaving the confines of the tiny bathroom thinking, "That was one helluva trouser snake."  It was then that I knew I'd have to share this with the world, via my blog, Brain Matter!