Redneck Review

Friday, May 20, 2005

R.I.P., Mr. Kickball

Poor Mr. Kickball. It was not his time to go. He was only in
our loving home for about 4 months. He was just entering his
prime. #1 son picked him up at Wal-mart in January, an off
time for kickball adoptions. He was much-loved. He spent his
days bouncing around the tile floor of the basement, near the
pool table. When the weather warmed up, he could be found
in the yard or on the carport. Most recently, Mr. Kickball
was seen impersonating a basketball for #2 son. Sadly, those
days are done, may he rest in peace.

The story of Mr. Kickball's tragic demise is not a pretty one.
We returned from town, and I opened the garage door with my
opener that works after I push it 4 or 5 times. Hubby has the
good one for his door, but he never uses it because his truck
is too big for the garage. Instead, he parks his 1980 Olds
Toronado in there, draped in a car cover. So...I opened the
door and saw nothing. I always look, because the cats think this
is their lair, and with 5 cats, you have to be alert. Again, nothing.
I pulled into the garage, and when I was almost to the front wall,
I heard a "pop" sound.

#1 son, who is allowed to ride up front, looked at me accusingly.

"What was that?" he demanded.

I looked out, and 2 cats, who had been lounging on the trunk
of the Olds, were standing and looking at my rear tire.

"I don't know. Don't look. I hope it wasn't a cat."

Of course #1 son jumped out and immediately looked back.

"Oh, it was only my kickball."

I guess that wasn't so bad, when he'd thought it might be
a cat. Mr. Kickball had been resting on top of the Olds,
where Hubby had moved him from the top of the dumpster,
where #2 son had left him overnight. The cats must have
shoved him off in a battle for supremacy of the Oldsmobile.
Mr. Kickball still rests under the tire. Hubby will have to
clean up the remains.

We had another casualty of summer last year--the
Sidewalk-Chalk family. They lived in their clear plastic
house on a shelf under the breezeway from our garage
to the porch. Such a lovely family...they were great lovers
of art. They enjoyed spending those lazy, hazy days of
summer basking in the sunlight on the carport.

They also came to a sad end. Again, we returned home
from town. I noticed the carnage before we even reached
the end of the driveway. Their broken bodies were strewn
across the front yard, their house torn beyond repair. We
knew the murderer immediately--the neighbor's black Lab.
He had already been threatened at BB-gunpoint for kidnapping
ceramic yard bunny and his cousins, ceramic turtle and ceramic
squirrel. (I was not too upset about these redneck relatives--
they were on Hubby's side of the family). Hubby paid a visit
to said neighbor, who relinquished bunny, turtle, and squirrel,
though bunny had part of his head chewed off. The murderer
himself was never apprehended, but for a short time he was
kept tethered beside the neighbors' trailer unless one of them
was home.

What will the rest of this summer bring? We will keep our
precious ones near, and keep a closer watch to prevent
accidents and mayhem.

4 Comments:

  • At 8:26 PM, Blogger Rebecca said…

    I just have one word for you Hillbilly Mom... MURDERER!
    I am now taking a day off work to help overcome the loss of Mr Kickball. :-)
    HooRoo
    Bec

     
  • At 11:43 PM, Blogger Rachel Croucher said…

    I bet you're thanking the heavens above it wasn't one of the pets :-)

     
  • At 4:33 AM, Blogger Vavoom said…

    I'm just glad you wiped up all the kickball blood before taking the picture. ;)

     
  • At 3:02 PM, Blogger Hillbilly Mom said…

    HMMM...

    Rebecca: "No witness to the hit--then you must acquit." The only witnesses to this ALLEGED crime were two cats. And they're not going to squeal...IF THEY KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR THEM! Oh, sorry, I wasn't quite feeling like myself there for a minute. Mr. Kickball would appreciate your selflessness in taking the day off work in mourning him.

    Rachel: I sure am. Unlike Mr. Kickball, they are irreplaceable.

    Vavoom: There was not much blood, but Mr. Kickball had an odor of death about him.

     

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