Evil Weirdo

As many of you know I have a slight quirk about me. I sometimes attribute human emotions to inanimate objects.  I imagine that these items have feelings, and this makes it difficult sometimes to toss something in the trash, or move past an object that has fallen off the shelf in a store. You see, it doesn’t want to be on the floor. If it were me, I would want to be back on the shelf with my buddies. And so I have to pick it up, put it back, and then I can move on. It’s a form of OCD. I’m sure it must be. It doesn’t control me, but it’s a part of me, and often it can make me do things that would cause a casual observer to think I am completely nuts.

In order to understand what I’m about to show you,  you first have to READ THIS POST by my dear friend Violet. More importantly, read the first few comments, and the exchange between Violet and me.

My intent was to demonstrate my impairment in a comical way, and to possibly have Violet play along, or perhaps appease my anxiety in some way. But no, not the Evil Weirdo Violet. She chose to torture me. She saw a weakness and went in for the kill, exploiting the situation and attempting to give me nightmares about the plight the poor Mr. Rope.  What had started as a joke, she made into a tragedy for me.

It could have ended there. But no, this wasn’t enough for the Evil Weirdo. She concocted an even more devious plan, rubbing her hands together and laughing maniacally. (I’m not actually sure if her stubby arms allow for her hands touch each other)

On Friday night, I came home from work to find a small box had come in the mail. I was puzzled, as I had ordered anything. The return address meant nothing to me, just a street address and a postal code, no name and no city. Odd.

I opened the box slowly. Inside, on top, a three page letter with the note “read me first”  I began reading and started to think it was some sort of scam, one of those Nigerian prince type of things. But it wasn’t.

Here is the entire letter:

Reaching deeper into the box, I pulled out poor Mr. Rope. Weary, still damp, and stiff from his long dark journey crammed into the tiny box.  Before heading out to dinner with Kelly, I stretched him out on the floor and  I promised him I would do right by him.

The next day, a bright sunny Saturday afternoon, I took Mr. Rope into my backyard and asked him if he would like to live with us. He was thrilled. I tied his three dismembered pieces together and with a long extendable pole, looped him over a high branch in our Maple tree. The sun warmed his yellow strands, and the wind helped him dance around and turn in each and every direction, taking in his new surroundings. From there he will watch over us all summer. He can also see into most of the neighbours yards too, and even peek into some of their windows.  He is looking forward to his new life. Although he will miss the boys, Coffee, and even Violet, he has plenty of new things to see here. And most of all, he knows he is wanted.

Oh and Violet? Sleep with one eye open dear.