They’re finally coming and I’m out here in front of the house helplessly drunk. The rumbling of engines and voices in the distance are getting progressively louder, and they’re coming from all directions. I’m being surrounded and feel vulnerable. Man, they must be really fucking pissed. Despite getting closer I still can’t quite understand what they’re saying. I knew this day would come and had been anticipating its arrival for years….ever since the moving van pulled away after dumping all my worldly possessions in my disaster of a house. Now there was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
The last several days were hectic as the preparations were. Food, batteries, water, music, clean underwear…. all the necessities for the long haul. The guys in Home Depot had to be wondering what I was going to do with those twenty-gallon canvas bags, duct tape and plywood. But the most curious item was the six-by-six bubble-top skylight. Excellent for all commercial uses. My trip to the army surplus store to get ten rolls of barbed wire garnered some strange looks despite them being used to people buying all sorts of weird stuff, but the camouflage helmets, gas masks and mosquito netting didn’t arouse much, if any suspicion. They thought it humorous I paid for everything with my Amex Corporate Card. And they thanked me by name, which circumvented the “We’ll thank you personally or it’s free” boast taped to the cash register. Those bastards.
My back is killing me. All the hours I spent filling those canvas bags down at the beach, hauling them home and placing them took their toll. My hands are torn and bloodied from positioning the barbed wire. I was crazed and forgot to buy fucking gloves!! What an asshole I am. The netting was properly positioned and the skylight fit perfectly in the hole I tediously cut through my roof. The Sawzall did its job perfectly. I couldn’t remember the plan for the plywood, but buying it seemed like the right idea at the time.
But it was time to assume our stations as the clamor got louder but still unintelligible. What the hell were they saying? The helmets fit all of us perfectly with the exception of my son, who still hasn’t grown into his head. We had to improvise so that crystal-cut Lucite salad bowl will have to do…I hope I could get a refund or at least an exchange on the unused one. If not, I’ll call Amex and have them deal with it for me, since after all, I’ve been a valued member since 1983. My daughter is perched at her bedroom window in ready position but refuses to wear the helmet for more than a minute afraid it will mess up her hair. My son is at his window with a stash of snacks. My beautiful wife, love of my life and the root of my current predicament for making me move to this Godforsaken place, is in the attic trying to position herself in the bubble without ruining her nails and hair, just done earlier in the day in anticipation of all this. She refuses to wear the helmet too, so now three of the four will have to go back. They better have not taken the tags off. And I’m ready to jump into the freshly dug hole in my front lawn, behind the sandbags. Something was troubling me and given my state of mind, I couldn’t put my finger on it for several minutes until it finally occurs to me we have no weapons. I forgot to buy weapons. I am an idiot. Here I am with Armageddon looming and I have no fucking weapons. And worse, my lawn never looked better than right before the hole, sandbags and barbed wire. All the years and gobs of cash spent on lawn maintenance and it looks horrible. And I’m not going to discuss the destruction of my sprinkler system in the process. Yeah, I feel real fucking good.
They’re drawing closer but I still don’t understand the chanting. With resignation and acceptance of my fate I remove my helmet, jump out of the hole, get another Scotch (on the rocks with a wedge of lime) and the newspaper, pull the beach chair from the garage, slap on sunscreen and sit my ass on the driveway to get some sun. Might as well try to look as good as possible.
The fresh drink takes effect and I’m the most relaxed I’ve been in weeks as I mentally replay the events leading up to this day. Person after person, circumstance after circumstance and event after event, all accumulating in my head and taking their toll. I reached my breaking point long ago but restraint got the better of me. Till the last straw. The very last straw. It was gnawing at me for two years, until my circuits finally overloaded, the warning lights fired up and I could no longer help myself. Something had to be done. And it was.
They were turning the corner and coming up my block and I was indeed surrounded. Despite my alcoholic haze, they were coming into focus. Hundreds of them, along with vans and SUVs. I burst out laughing. What took them so long? They had to know it was me. Had to. I gave them plenty of clues. It was too easy to ignore and my plan was absolutely perfect. They can fucking have him back. A week was more than enough. I was getting tired of looking at that whiny old SOB anyway. The fun was in the execution of the plan and to see whether I could get away with it but that was it. The duct tape worked wonders. No need to put up a fight as my point was made. That bastard, that miserable bastard. His arrogance, attitude and nastiness were pissing me off and I was surprised anybody, with the exception of his family, cared enough to look for him. But that is the case given it was playoff time and the entire Little League….the kids, parents and coaches, were in front of my house demanding I return Bob Herman, the Director of Umpires, to them. After the second of my torturous seasons as manager with constant confrontations it was time for me to get some revenge. But the jig was up so I stumbled out of my chair to head to the shed to free the bastard.
And then….Poof!
I awoke in a sweaty, drunk, disoriented stupor, there on my driveway. I looked around. It was quiet. Where was everyone? The Jeeps, the vans, the kids. The barbed wire, sandbags, bubble skylight. Gone. My lawn looked great. The sprinkler was intact. My wife was reading the paper on a chair right next to me. Her nails looked great. My kids were in the house watching TV. The sunscreen kept the burn to medium well but I was in bad need of liquids and a hose. All seemed well.
But was it?