The Wednesday Meeting Alien
Voodoo Peeps Reprise
In praise of Easter, the ubiquitous Peeps, and, well, the desire for revenge – I give you “Voodoo Peeps.”
This tasty little tidbit was written in July, 2003. Like Peeps, it’s one of my favorites.
If you’re really angry at someone today, maybe this article will prevent you from murdering them. Happy Easter.
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“Voodoo Peeps”
(originally posted here: Heron Flight Rand-O-Blog – July, 2003)
Ever feel like biting someone’s head off? Have a few people on your scene who deserve to have their heads chewed off and spit out like a piece of rancid beef? Would you do it if you knew you could get away with it?
Well… Until you come up with your plan for the perfect head chomping crime, I’ve got a little diversion for you. VOODOO PEEPS! These little peckers are oh so willing to vicariously give their lives in place of the big peckers in your life who really deserve to have there heads gnawed off. And it keeps you out of trouble!
First, start with a fresh box of marshmallow Peeps at Easter time. Remove the wrapping and put the box away somewhere. Forget about it until July, when the Peeps are perfectly stale. (They’re best that way!)
Then, when some fowl excuse for a human being gets your tail feathers all in a knot, remove one of your little Peep friends from the box. (Note: Though you are peeved and all in a huff like a hen who just laid the mother of all eggs, be gentle in removing the Peep so as not to tear the guts out of his fellow beside him. You will need him at a later date for sure. Jerks of a feather flock together. If you have one jerk in your life, more are bound to follow.) Carefully position the Peep within your finger tips, using your pinky as a perch for your sugar-feathered friend.
Step three, the most satisfying part of the process: With gusto and delight, with soaring abandon, yet with precision, bite the hell out of his little soft body and rip his head right off his mallow shoulders! Do it as a starved buzzard who hasn’t seen a rotting carcass in weeks! Birds do not have teeth, but you do! Do your carnivorous worst! Bare those canines! Chomp down! Fill his jugular with all of your venemous anger!
But! Before you swallow, savor the moment! Toss his little egg-head around within your cheeks! Allow his sticky little cranium to migrate from one side of your mouth to the other! Suck his little brains out and feel your frustrations flock away as so many startled sparrows!
Ingest and smile!
Feel better? I knew you would! (A little birdy told me!)
May the purple Peep of happiness send droppings of peace upon you always! (Send pieces of droppings on you always?? Nah!!)
Holy Thursday
I made this meme this morning. It’s my kind of humor. I shared this picture on Facebook with the people at Catholic Memes. Given that the photo now has 3,300 likes, it looks like maybe a few people share my sense of humor. It’s a good feeling to think that I made 3,000 people smile today. “Holy Happiness, Batman!”
I Wish You Could Smell This
I wish you could smell this.
This flower smells so GOOD!
It’s one of several flowers that have bloomed on my jasmine plant over the last few days. I walked into the kitchen and thought, What is that awesome smell? The whole room smelled good! (This may also have been due to the fact that I finally took the garbage out earlier that day.)
Long, long ago, in one of those lifetime-ago periods of my life, back in the last century, actually, a girl that I was seeing gave me a similar plant. I was newly divorced. This girl thought she would liven up my home by filling it with plants. Rubber plants. Aloes. Philodendron. A lot of the typical houseplants. And there was a jasmine plant, which was very popular in the country where she grew up, but called by a different name there. There was much ado about that plant. It was meant to be the queen among all the lesser plants that then occupied my home. I was fine with that because it smelled fantastic! It had a scent that lifted one’s spirits. Beautiful.
An interesting thing about the jasmine flower: it lasts for not more than 24 hours once it blooms. Its fragrance is kept completely secret as the blossom matures. Then when it opens it spreads forth such a scent. It is a gloriously white flower with a soft texture. It is pretty to both the eyes and the nose. But the day after it blooms, its color begins to turn a pale pink. It withers. Falls to the ground. There is no longer any fragrance. It is sheer delight, then gone.
One day, the girl got mad at me. She took back the jasmine plant. She clutched it in her arms and said, “I don’t trust you with this plant. You would probably kill it.” She left. Eventually she faded. I don’t remember her scent.
One day, another day, I came home to find the rest of the houseplants gnawed down to stumps in their pots. Dirt was everywhere. This caused me some consternation as no one had been in the house all day. Later, I discovered what annihilated my plants: A RAT!
There’s really no analogy in the rat part of this story like there is in the jasmine part. Other than that maybe it was a sign that I was living in a real shithole and needed to move. Which I did. Quickly.
Then, one day, another day, a couple of years down the road, I found a plant with pretty white flowers in a garden store. “Jasmine? I once knew you by another name.”
I bought the plant. No one can take it back. That makes it all the more enjoyable.
I wish you could smell it.