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Jett Superior laid this on you on || July 29, 2004 || 9:04 pm

It’s one thing if I can’t find my pantses; the lack of a camera, however, sucks large.

Exciting things were afoot in the Cove O’ Superiortm this afternoon!

It was around five-thirty pee emm, give or take, and I was doing laundry in the back of the house while Mathias was watching cartoons in the front room. I heard the unmistakable sound of a crash on (what I thought was) the next street over; it was less than a minute later when I heard sirens screaming all around.

“Wow,” says I to myownself, “how on earth are they responding that quickly? Wow.”

I live in a land of Barney Fifes. This was indeed heady, impressive stuff.

I sort of said, ‘awwww, poor people inna crash’ and went on downloading clown pr0n for melly about my business. Thirty seconds later, here comes Mathias, eyes wide.

“Mommy, come and see da ting what it crashed outside.”

“The crash was out front?” I asked dumbly.

“Yeah,” he nodded sagely, “come look,” and he grabbed me by the hand, pulling me toward him. He led me toward the front of the house, and out of the front windows and partially-opened front door I saw cruisers lining both sides of the street on our cul-de-sac.

This is a quiet neighborhood. As we’ve had a couple meth lab explosions on the outskirts of town recently, that was the first thing that flitted across my brainscape, but I quickly dismissed it. We know all the neighbors on the entire block, converse with them, have been in their homes. When we stepped out onto the porch, Mathias began eagerly pointing to his right.

“See? See, right dere! A crash!” He was gesturing to the turn-around that backs up onto another neighborhood, into two backyards.

“Right there, Monkus? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, momma, I see him.”

It was then that I noticed the cop cars were from the neighboring city. We wandered across the lawn, out into the jam-packed street, out in front of a parked SUV clearly marked with DEU insignia, and some thirty feet down the street. Sure enough, someone had been fleeing the coppers and took too long to figure out (that, or they didn’t give a diddly-damn) that the street ended, a makeshift ‘crete barrier began and a sharp drop would put them airborne for about twenty or so feet.

There were deep gouges in the grass where the car had landed and kept on keepin’ on. At first I thought the neighbor had parked her car in the side yard, but then I noticed the path of the tracks and came to understand that the vehicle resting neatly on three wheels between two large oaks was indeed the one that had Dukes of Hazzarded off our street. That dumb sonofabitch got hella, hella lucky: The space between the trees could accomodate a car and not much else.

Thinking of you, divine readership, I Sparked An Idear.

I will take pictures! the inside of my head said, I will take pictures of yon foolishness and the resultant DEA convention! I am nothing if not a kind Mistress to the Muffinass Population.

I explained my plan to Mathias and we went back inside. At first I couldna find the digital camera, then I discovered its rechargeable batteries were dead. No prob, I would just take the other set out of the flash unit on Maxim’s camera, right?

Wrong. The NAMM show was this past weekend, and Maxim still had the Nikon with him in his vehicle. DAMN! DOUBLE-DAMN WITH A CHERRY ON TOP (and lots of ooey fudge…sprinkles, too)!

Of course, with you all knowing that I have three wee people in the house, you know there’s not a matched set of working double-A’s within four fucking miles.

SO, I was unable to snap any photographic evidence, and now you are all skeptically thinking that this was just one more crap entry in this already-leaning pile of what is surely fiction.

pee ess….after Maxim got home and heard the entire tale, he said, “Thank God that Sam was at his father’s for the day; he’d've been right out in the middle of the street (cul-de-sac=little to no traffic) practicing his jumps.” My heart flared in my chest: I hadn’t even thought of that. Sam, resident King Of All Things Four-Wheeled, Namely Skateboards, would have been out there jumping and grinding and spilling the late afternoon away as he is wont to do on a daily basis. Wanton cliche: There but for the Grace of God….

Also, Maxim thought of one other thing: “Be sure and keep the deadbolt locked always. What if that jackass had run this way (oops, forgot to tell you he’d bailed and fled on foot after the great Vehicular Air Assault On The Pretty Sod) and felt like taking a couple hostages?” Good point. He’d gone over fifteen miles being chased by six or seven cops; he could’ve attempted anything and I don’t know how much opportunity I’d have had to respond.

Especially with a five-year-old present. *shudder*

6 worked it out »

  1. blammo 7.29.2004

    Them Duke boys, a’gin!

     
  2. how on EARTH can you put a negative spin on an airborne SUV outside your HOUSE?

     
  3. Jettomatika 7.29.2004

    Wretchedee: Please note, it were the spousal unit that committed such heinousness, not I.

    Mathias and I just stood at the lip of the concrete and gaped like two little children. ‘Twas nifty.

     
  4. CNL 7.30.2004

    I, for one, have never doubted your stories of what goes on in and around Chez Jett… ‘Cause most of the same stuff goes on around here, except with no southern drawl and no side order of grits. :-D

     
  5. zee 7.30.2004

    and I would’ve been kickin’ the curb, watching in awe right there with you. kewl!

     
  6. Bob 7.30.2004

    My ride will never be the same…please tell the neighbors, sorry ’bout that whole kidnapping thing….I will write from prison…..

     

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