by Fred
1:00 AM Saturday morning. The wife is out for the night with friends. Our little girl is asleep in bed. I have fallen asleep watching TV with our little guy.
The dog wakes me. This one doesn’t have as many different voices as our previous dog, but her Home Invasion! bark is pretty unmistakable. Now I hear a motorcycle outside: up the street, down the street, up the street, down the street. Now the front door opens, which sends the dog into hysterics. Now it closes, now it opens, now it closes again. The dog’s howling toggles between full volume and muffled with every time the door opens and closes. I haven’t been sleeping well lately: I really needed an uninterrupted eight hours this time. But even in my stupor I actually say out loud, “You’re shitting me.”
And still with the motorcycle.
Maybe my folks have been sending me too much NRA material, but I almost start barking the Home Invasion bark myself.
I put on a pair of sweat pants. I deliberately pick this pair because the black color and rectilinear fit gives them a distinct Bruce Lee look. To continue the Bruce Lee motif, I head outside shirtless and in my bare feet. But quite frankly, if I wanted to intimidate someone I’d have to put three shirts on and a sweatshirt over that. We’ve all seen this film before. We know how it ends. Skinny Redneck With Eyeglasses Who Needs a Tan — starring Fred with The Muse in Music — never chases off Motorcycle Thugs #1, 2 and 3.
Just as I’m opening the front door from the inside, the wife is opening it from the outside and we both shriek. General whiskey tango foxtrot. She tells me that the neighbor is getting ready for a dirtbike race in the morning and wanted to borrow some wine corks. Wine corks. At one in the morning.
She tells me he uses them to plug the gas tank on his bike. I hate to admit it, but it all starts coming together: he saw her pull up, fired up his motorcycle (instead of just walking over), rode up, and caused the dog to go ballistic. The wife let the dog out to piss and to shut the hell up, at which point he asked for the wine cork. Of course all of this is at one in the morning. She opens the door again to get the cork, shuts it again to go back outside and deliver the cork and the general whiskey tango foxtrot. Case closed.
There is absolutely no way to seamlessly tie this back to music, so arbitrary is the only real solution. Stream or download Termite by Dominik Gawara (DBA Pentliczek) here. The propaganda describes some of his early work as “homely deliriums,” and the boot fits. Of course the present correspondent would walk all day in those boots, but I’m not, you know? You?
Give it a chance anyway, and then follow the links from there. I’m rather partial to “Quo-Haruk,” and not only because I would like to use that word in a Scrabble game against Patrick. Right now I’m listening to the next track, “La Zona de Silencio,” which is anything but.
