CAN I HELP YOU?

 Compound bow season ended today. What better time to restart the blog?

I won't bother you with the details of what's happened between the last blog posting and this. Let me start with yesterday. My friend Jeremy (from the last post) is visiting from Chamonix, France. He's one of my one (correction two) art collectors. The other being my little brother Ricky. Sorry Rick. So, as you can imagine it's fun to have the guy in town, hoping for a sale. In the meantime we get high, eat, hang out, and look at my paintings between 1:00 and 4:00 pm, when I get in the tree stand. Sometimes I hunt mornings, most times not. It's a good schedule. I haven't seen shit.

Yesterday the truck broke down. I dropped it off at the garage and got a lift home. I think it's the oil pressure sensor. Now I would have to walk to the stand. Last night I chose to walk down the hill and hunt above the Hasidics. I climbed out of the stand at 6:00 pm without ever seeing a deer. Now for the unpleasant walk home, UP the hill in the cold. As I crested the road by the school house I noticed headlights coming from my driveway. A car I didn't recognize had backed in. I thought it had to be Jeremy's loaner. But when I peered in the windshield a young woman in a grey hoodie, hands clasped in straight fingered (well manicured) prayer stared blankly back at me. "Hi." I said in a friendly tone, "Can I help you?" No response.

Then I went around to the driver's (fully tinted) side making the universal "rolling finger" sign for rolling down the window, and repeated myself, "Helloooo....are you OK?" I tapped on the black window. Nothing. Then, in quick succession I did a little hunched "WTF?" shoulder pantomime in the windshield and rapped louder on the side window. Only then did the window recede. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT, ASSHOLE?" came the quite unexpected reply. I reacted per usual. "YOU ARE IN MY DRIVEWAY! I LIVE HERE........ BITCH!!!!" It was at that point she put the late model, white, two-door Elantra? with tinted side windows in gear and damn near ran over my foot. Then she stopped in the road and screamed "ASSHOLE!" one more time, before screeching down the hill.

The whole episode rattled me so much I had to lock the doors to the house, put all the lights on, and cook up my linguini with the 9mm. on the table. It would be just my luck, after pissing off the Hassidics in Mountain Dale with my titty sculptures, infuriating old man Zucker by mowing the shul's lawn, and driving the Italian neighbors to fence in my property. (Where did that fence go?)....I would be killed by a pretty, praying, psychopath, parked in my driveway. All I wanted was to help. Tomorrow crossbow opens.