Read My Lips - the blog

It was neither a dark nor stormy night

I was in the mood for another drive today, but, not wanting to venture far from home, I went to the next town to take care of a matter involving one of my clients, then decided to come back via some of the back roads. Well, as such usually turns out, I got a bit turned around and found myself circling around and around the same roads, over and over. I am pretty sure I was lost in the midst of the area known locally as goatneck. I am unsure why it is called goatneck, but it might be because such seems like it would be the natural haunt of the legendary Goatman. The ancient asphalt lanes were wide but mostly under the canopy of overhanging live oaks and the vegetation which had grown up along the bordering fences was dense, choking out much of the light. In actuality, I seem to remember the location as being named as one of the possible sites where the story behind The Texas Chain Saw Massacre actually occurred.

I can tell you I was a bit wary of the most minor circumstances dealing with my surroundings, as I found myself passing the same dilapidated church time and time again. Peculiarly, there was no one around, most pleasantly to me being the entire absence of the legendary Goatman, except for three men sitting on the bench just outside of some shack advertising BBQ for sale. They looked familiar. At first, I thought it was these three:

Then, I was almost sure it was this trio:

The lighting was more direct on my third pass and I was finally able to recognize these guys:

The BBQ smelled wonderful. I didn't stop. It smelled just like the sort of trap any semi-intelligent Goatman or cannibalistic person with a chain saw might set for unwary travelers. I eventually located the hole in the hedge which released me from the vicious cycle. I was relieved and my navel was ecstatic. It feared that, if the cycle were to continue, the next trio we might encounter would be this group:

Given the strong resemblance of my Buddha belly to that of the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man, my navel was so terrified it might have peed itself. We, of course, are all aware that navels do not pee, right? End of report.

Posted by Tiger at February 4, 2005 09:28 PM | TrackBack