Another Sucky Scenario

When twice within a week a fellow critter assaults you, you begin to wonder if there’s some big secret that everyone is in on except for you.

With my father’s residence firmly established out at Binary Sunset, it dawned on me I could put off no longer the ordeal of cleaning out his old den. I enlisted the help of Roderick, who made sorting through the old bear’s belongings easier by just eating anything that didn’t appear toxic. Everything else, we put on a pile to donate to charity.

There are limits, however, to the number of miniature ketchup packets even the most gluttonous raccoon can ingest. In addition to the stash in the fridge, there were cartons upon cartons in various closets, all meticulously labeled with the dates and names of the high school cafeterias from which they had been pilfered.

While Roderick left to score some cheeseburgers to make his job more palatable, I continued to excavate my way through my father’s life. Among the most notable finds was a stash of newspaper clippings going back to 1947 of fatal bear attacks in the U.S. It did my heart good to find something over which I could bond with my dad like that. As a gesture of goodwill, I brought him his portfolio, updated with a clipping from last Thursday’s Times about that feast out in Yellowstone.

Having cleared most of the detritus, I revved up the old Hoover, which promptly caught fire – I suppose it hadn’t been used in a few decades. A family of aardvarks had moved into the forest to set up an appliance repair, so I brought it in. Little aardvarks were scurrying all over the place, with their mother chasing after them. The bloke behind the counter dryly enquired what he could do for me. Pointing over my shoulder, I said, “This vacuum cleaner is busted.”

With a slap across my face, he shouted, “That’s not a vacuum cleaner, that’s my wife!”