The Big Switcheroo

Well Amigos what can I say except The Red Man is royally pissed off at the old woman Slow and yes, possibly even Pretty, although I’m not sure how much Pretty participated in the foul deeds of the weekend.  I’d like to think Pretty was overruled in this con game by Slow, but I can’t remember Slow ever overruling Pretty about anything, if you catch my drift.

To make a long story short, I heard my two lesbians whispering about an upcoming trip last week plus they were all nicey-nicey to moi and then on Friday they started packing two little suitcases and their computers, iPads, camera, and the cords that go with them – I swear they have enough chargers to electrocute themselves. At any rate, I knew departure was imminent.  Slow had of course packed her pills.  I checked to see if our traveling bowls and food were put in the red canvas Montgomery Wine Festival souvenir bag and was relieved when Pretty carried it to the Dodge Dakota pickup truck for the trip.

But when the time came for them to leave, they pulled the Big Switcheroo on The Red Man.  They took Spike – Spike, I repeat – and left me with Tennis Ball Obsessed Chelsea for three days and nights.  I was horrified.  I couldn’t believe it.  The Red Man had been abandoned to the universe.

Well, not exactly abandoned.  We had this really nice girl named Stefanie who stayed with us at night and made sure we didn’t miss a meal.  Stefanie works with Pretty at the Mast General Store and she tried her best to keep us entertained.  It wasn’t her fault I was inconsolable.  I was mad and I wanted Slow and Pretty to be PUNISHED.

And it looks like they were.  What goes around comes around, as The Red Man is fond of saying.  Spike had this story about his weekend in Georgia.

 Finster Fest with Pretty

He said he rode and rode and rode to get to some place called Summerville, Georgia where they were having something called a folk art festival.  I wasn’t surprised.  Pretty loves her some folk art and this would be right up her alley.  So far, so good.

It was hot in Georgia

Pretty didn’t mind – she was on a mission

Spike said he spent a lot of time sitting in the shade with the old woman Slow while Pretty didn’t care how hot it was she was going to take it all in.  So they had a big day Saturday with everything going smooth.  I can see it now.  Whatever.

Sunday they rode out to visit something called Berry College. Why anyone would want to spend time looking at a fruit school is beyond me but then I wasn’t invited was I – so I wasn’t there to figure out why.

Berry College had lots of watering holes

Spike said you wouldn’t believe how hot it was wandering around the campus with Pretty and he had been very thirsty, too, but he steered clear of any trouble like jumping into the fountains. Important fact:  he steered clear of trouble.

 

Finally, late Sunday afternoon came the inevitable visit to a cemetery.  Slow never misses a good cemetery, and she found one she wanted to see in Stone Mountain, Georgia.  This is so typical.  She gets as excited about old cemeteries as Pretty does about folk art.

Seriously? Stone Mountain Cemetery?

Apparently this is where Spike forgot to steer clear of trouble.  It was SO HOT in Georgia.

Cemetery had one mud puddle too many

Pretty had a word with Spike

Sports Fans, by this time I am laughing so hard because I know this totally wigged the old woman Slow.  Spike said he finally just couldn’t resist the opportunity to cool off in that mud puddle, even if it was nasty. So evidently they rode and rode and rode some more looking for a hose to wash him off and finally Pretty spied one behind a Starbucks somewhere in the drive-thru lane and they pulled over and gave him a big hose down while no one was coming to order a mocha latte.  Can’t you just see it now?

Then they went to a Car Wash and had to get the back seat vacuumed so they could get the mud off but of course it wouldn’t come off, and that’s when I knew there really is a God who punishes the two lesbians for their evil ways –  I mean like leaving me for the weekend – not the other things they do which I could care less about.

All’s well that ends well, and they came home to Casa de Canterbury yesterday afternoon.  Spike is exhausted from the marathon back seat riding, and I’m happy to report Pretty managed to bring a few treasures from the travels.  Slow is back at work as my editor, but I refuse to be nice to her.  The Red Man can hold a grudge with the best of them.

Get me outta here Percy…I need to go lay a little MEAN on you-know-who…