EXUDES CHARM AND BOASTS A CLOSET

 I love my shack. But as anyone can tell you, it gets a bit ripe now and then. The woodstove and an obvious degenerative gene that allows me to live in my own crapulence with little or no regard, can leave the homestead a bit gamey for some. People point out unpainted surfaces and sooty cobwebs hanging from every available corner, to no avail. I really don't care. I guess there was a time I cared, but it's so long ago i credit that to a different me. The present me is happy in my own shit. So, it was with much trepidation I left the mountain for a pre-Valentine's jaunt to the city. Everything went great for the first 45 mins.

    I drive a 2003 Dodge Neon, and I love it just like my house. But, like the house, it's been around the block. Around Chester the dome light came on, the beepy thing beeped, and the back door flew open at 70 mph. I pulled over and within a matter of frustrating minutes I determined that no matter how hard I slammed the door it did not stay shut. With the help of Shewho's calm direction I fashioned an ingenious length of wire attached to a light plug. With the plug stuck outside and the window tightly rolled up I could attach the wire to a metal hoop, obviously designed for this very purpose. We got back onto the highway only to find that the dome light would not turn off. It spotlighted my scraggly noggan as if to say "Officer that guy smokes pot and he's too stoned to realize his dome light is on." I was waiting to see flashing lights in the rearview.
   We turned around and headed back, only to eventually get the light out and head again back towards NYC.  Add 40 miles to the trip. The rest of the trip in was a breeze. So after some last minute chocolate shopping we ended up in Brooklyn. The reason for the trip was to have dinner with the students from The Old School back in 1999. Jessie from LA, Spiro Baltimore, Sharon from Israel all gathered at Durado and Segali's. Leila drew me a valentine. The next day Shewho, Smokey and i ate chocolates and watched chick flicks in bed. We ordered spicy Vietnamese sandwiches and I pulled out about 2pm, ready to get home.
    The shack was cold. I started a hot fire and thought about cleaning the place up. But that was about as far as it went. My stomach was rumbling from all the booze, chocolate and Vietnamese food. I don't know how to put this delicately.....so I'll just say it. I had to take a mighty shit. I sat down on the old seat and let 'er rip. Gawd that felt good. My relief was temporary. You see, the previous night's spicy hot  soup had obviously waited to be joined by the flaming Viet sauce, in order to act as some sort of rocket fuel blasting through my intestines. My asshole was never informed as to what was coming.
   Dancing around the bathroom, my pants down about my ankles, I grabbed the heretofore strictly decorative  bright yellow and red plastic can of Anti-monkey butt wipes. This had been a gag Xmas gift from Shewho. Nothing was funny about this. FUCK! There was a silver foil seal. I quickly plunged a toothbrush through it, reaching the cooling wipes. I unrolled one and applied the moist cloth to my......ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn that felt good. The soft wipes were designed to "pop" through a star shaped hole in the bright red top. It looked like if i could just stuff one through the hole with my finger......Remember my pants are still around my ankles.
    I forced the rag through the hole with the tip of the middle finger of my left hand. And when I do, the points of that plastic asshole clamp down on my finger tip like a bear trap- forward it gets worse. Backward? There's no backing out without shredding my finger tip like razored Chinese handcuffs. I run, wobble, fall into the kitchen, looking for a sharp knife, realizing without my glasses I'll likely cut my finger off.  Bare assed, screaming in pain, I'm finally am able to find my glasses and a pair of scissors that will cut free my now bloody finger tip from the plastic top. I now know what those turtles feel like with those six pack rings around their heads. Still, after all that, I hope that's the last time I have to go into the city for a while. There's no place like home.