I pulled a fourteen-hour shift the other day that was so mind numbingly dull I think a large number of brain cells simply committed suicide. Now there are some things I may never be able to do again. Like ballroom dancing. I'm not sure if I knew how to before, but its quite possible I did before my poor brain cells were crucified against the hard cross of mediocrity.
I stopped into Wal-Mart the other night to stock up on sub-fixings. Somewhere in the past month or so I suddenly lost all urges to cook. I just don't feel like taking the time to make the crap, and then dealing with the dishes later. So I make subs. I buy the fixings, make about a dozen of them in one night, roll them up in tin foil until they look like something that a drug mule would shove up their ass, and then neatly stack them in my fridge. For lunch at work or dinner at home, I simply pull out another sub. Bachelor chow at it's finest.
I usually do not get my lunchmeat at Wal-Mart, thinking perhaps that perfect sphere of smoked turkey they cut slices off of actually came from china and is made out of foam rubber, carboxymethyl cellulose, and dog assholes. But I was lazy and poor at the time, so Wal-Mart meat it was. I decided I would forego turkey and go for some ham. Black forest ham, to be precise. I patiently waited until the African-American girl behind the counter took the time off from chatting with her friend to notice me. She gave me a 'whatchoo want' look and I said "Black Forest Ham'.
She cocked her head to the side and made a 'wha?' noise that I think she completed in her head as 'What did this white boy just say?' So I said again, louder 'Block Forest Ham!' and pointed out the ham. Something in her brain clicked and the mild hostility left her eyes.
I got my Ham.
A white back there had been a rash of cat killings in Sanford as wild dogs roved around and chewed up whatever feline treat they might have come across.. Quick-witted city officials decided to solve this problem by reminding its residents that it is illegal for a cat to roam free. Thus they sent out a Seminole county animal law packet that came inexplicably in a rather large and neat plastic bag depicting cartoon cats and dogs. The bag baffled me for a while because it looks like the sort of thing charities give you when you want to put old clothes in them for them to come pick up at a later date. However, they did not ask for anything in return. I wonder if the bag was actually for you to stuff your dead dog-chewed cat in.
Section 20.19 of the animal laws amused me as it concerned noisy animals. It states "it shall be unlawful for any animal owner to permit either willfully or through failure to exercise due care and control, any animal, in a continuing or repeating manner, to bark, howl, screech, squawk, scream, whine or cause any other objectionable noises which disturb the comfort, peace, quiet or repose of any person residing in the vicinity."
I somehow picture a bunch of lawyers sitting in a room and trying to think up all the sounds that an animal can make. Actually, the word 'repose' made me think a moment. The definitions of repose are:
Definitions of repose on the Web: · put or confide something in a person or thing; "These philosophers reposed the law in the people" · rest: be inherent or innate in; · lie when dead; "Mao reposes in his mausoleum" · rest: freedom from activity (work or strain or responsibility); "took his repose by the swimming pool" · recumb: lean in a comfortable resting position; "He was reposing on the couch" · peace: the absence of mental stress or anxiety · lay: put in a horizontal position; "lay the books on the table"; "lay the patient carefully onto the bed" · a disposition free from stress or emotion · to put something (eg trust) in something; "The nation reposed its confidence in the King" So I wonder if its technically illegal to have a dog barking (or squawking) next to a graveyard, and thus disturbing the dead folks repose. I suppose it is, but when I looked further into the law it stated you needed at least three people to sign a complaint form. I guess dead folks won't be signing many forms.
Some Chinese girl at the buffet asked me if I dyed my hair. I said no. That made her giggle for some reason. Perhaps she thought I lied.
2026 Update
Coal bill's enormous, but 2007 Ed is doing fourteen-hour shifts and arguing with ham, so let's go.
Ah, 2007: a sacred age when a man could still buy a dozen subs' worth of compressed meat product at a Supercenter deli and call it bachelor chow. The world has changed. Wal-Mart's deli counter, if it still exists, now shares floor space with self-checkout kiosks and maybe an app for ordering ahead; the 'whatchoo want' look has been replaced by a glowing tablet and a pickup locker. The county animal law packet arrived in a plastic bag back then; today it would be a PDF you find after navigating three portals, assuming you can remember your pet license portal password. Ed, your encyclopedic dictionary dive for 'repose' is the purest 2007 energy—we now just type it into a phone that also answers our calls, plays our music, and watches our dogs bark. Even the buffet is an endangered species; buffets have given way to ghost kitchens and delivery apps. The only thing that hasn't changed is the eternal truth: lunchmeat carved from a giant sphere remains deeply suspicious.
“2007 Ed, after all that forensic linguistics on 'repose,' did you ever file a three-person complaint against a graveyard-barking dog, or did the Wal-Mart ham steal that brain cell too?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2007 Ed: Well, Beelzebubba, I hate to say it, but the Wal-Mart ham probably did steal that brain cell, along with a few of its friends. I never filed the complaint. Getting three people to sign anything in this town is like herding cats, and not the dead-dog-chewed kind either. I did think about it once when a neighbor’s hound started howling at the old cemetery off 17-92, but then I realized the dead folks probably don’t mind, seeing as they’re beyond barking, and I’d have to knock on doors and talk to actual humans. I’d rather let sleeping dogs lie, literally, and go make another sub. Besides, that law’s got about as much teeth as a foam-rubber turkey. So no, no complaint, no justice for the repose of the deceased. Just me, a tin-foil ham roll, and a graveyard full of quiet.
