by Virginia Beadle in space #17

Be careful what you wish for 'cause you just might get it. I got to find that one out the hard way on Valentine's Day.

For about a year now, I've been wishing something would make that asshole next door to me quit torturing me and my Chihuahua dog with that damned old Skilsaw of his. But I was hoping he'd get finished with whatever he's Skilsawing, or if I was real mad at him, I'd wish that saw would blow a fuse on his trailer or something. I was just wishing for some peace and quiet, that's it.

I had just split a BBQ beef sandwich and a glass of milk with Cricket and we were fixing to spend a relaxing afternoon staring out the front window in hopes of catching a glimpse of some action. We got some action, all right. And it was some gory action, too.

The aforementioned action started with the WWWWW EEEEEEEEEEEEE AAAAAAA aaaaaawwwwhhh racket of Rudy's Skilsaw. This went on for maybe five minutes, tops. Cricket and I decided to stare out the window at that asshole, hoping he'd get the hint and shut that damn thing off. Cricket was leap-leap-leaping at the window and trying to bark over the noise.

Anyways, Rudy was bent over that racketmaking implement of destruction, when I seen him slowly start to lean in towards the blade, like he was going in for a closer look. I got up and grabbed my walker and was going to beat on the window and tell him he needs some kinda face protection, like sunglasses, with all them wood chips and sawdust flying every whichaway.

Before I even got to the window, it happened. Rudy went top-of-the-headfirst right into that whirling Skilsaw blade. It made this godawful WWWEEEE AAAAA aaaaawww ZZZZZZHHHH kahunk sound then quit running, thank God.

It took me a whole three to five seconds to inhale enough air to SCREEEEEEEEEEEEAM the way I did when I seen Rudy through all the gore splattered on my living room window. That bloodcurdling primal scream about knocked the wind out of me. Then when I went Huuuuh-AAAAAAGH, Huuuuh-AAAAAAGH as I tried to catch my breath but couldn't quit screaming. Finally I just stood there and went haah-ugh-haah-ugh-haah-ugh gagging and barely made it to the kitchen before I ralphed up my half of that BBQ beef sandwich into the kitchen trash can.

I guess it was my screams what flushed you all out of your trailers and onto Rudy's porch. I never seen so many trailerpark inhabitants clustered in one spot since the gazebo burned down and set all the grass by the duckpond on fire.

Everyone keeps asking me what exactly I seen out that window, and to be honest with you, I think my brain blocked a bunch of it out. Contrary to what you all been accusing me of, I am NOT being stingy with the gory details. I was 78 years old last time I looked, and I get forgetful. Besides, it was just so traumatic. But one thing I can tell you that I DIDN'T see -- brains. I know I seen a whole lot of blood and bone and even some meat, but I honestly do not remember seeing any brains.

I guess I was right about that brainless racketmaking knucklefuck, after all.

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