Clintster's So-Called Life

I have to share this story from this weekend, but first, in case you didn't know, I have a phone interview with a software company tomorrow morning Wish me luck, and pray that I can get out of the newspaper business before it does me in. Anyway... Yesterday, Da Kat, Li'l Ian and I went to Harrisonburg to look at modular homes and scope out some land a Realtor had told Kathy about. The first part of it was pretty cool, although the prices that we had heard were so low start to add up once they decide to add on A/C ductwork, basement, etc. Still and all, we have a better idea of what we want in a house and land, and what we DON'T want. Which brings me to the land looksee. Kathy had called a Realtor about finding a decent size lot where we could put a modular home. The Realtor suggested a place about 10 miles outside H'burg that she said would be nice because "there's a lot of other people with modulars out that way." However, she couldn't get away to show us the property, so she gave us directions. After lunch, we set out for the lot, which was located near a town called Singer's Glen. After driving about 15 miles (not 10), we decided to stop at a little country store in Singer's Glen to make sure our directions were right. It turns out they were mostly right, but somehow we were missing a few key turnoffs to get to the property. The store clerk's wife set me straight and, as I was walking out the door, she wished me "good luck". I assumed she meant that in a navigational sense. Boy, was I ever wrong. After following her directions, we got to Mayberry Drive. Sounds nice, doesn't it? Well, it was except for the fact that there was a free-range chicken farm on the road. And by "free-range", I mean that there were chickens all over the friggin' road! There were also a multitude of empty bread wrappers blowing through the chickens' de facto coop/shelter yard, and across the road. It reminded me of this guy who lived near me when I lived in North Carolina, only instead of 5-6 chickens running loose, this guy in VA had about 30 at the moment. Once we cleared that hurdle, it was onto the next task; finding the turnoff road. We went one way, and all we saw were a couple of guys working on their cars, and some pretty wormy looking kids walking down the road with no particular aim or purpose. We got to the end of the road and turned around, hoping it would be at the other end. As we came back, we noticed one of the kids walking a rather sizable pit bull. I slowed down to let the kid move to one side or the other, but he just kept walking towards us. I thought, "OK, I realize this is a little bitty Prius, and I have some hippy-dippy stickers on the back of it, but if you don't move, you and your big dog are gonna get a hurtin'!" Finally, the kid moved, but he shot me a look like I was twice as old as I am. We kept going and finally reached the other end of Mayberry, and our destination: Copperhead Road. Now, I should have realized that a road named for a song about moonshiners/pot growers who make lawmen "disappear" might not be the best road in the world, but we had come that far, and by God, we were a-gonna see this friggin' lot if it killed us! We should have turned around at the sign, but we didn't. We should have turned around when we saw the steep grade of the narrow dirt road, but we didn't. We should have turned around when we saw the trailer covered over with plywood and a crudely-lettered sign saying "All we are saying... give Jesus a chance", but... we didn't. We thought about that one, but we didn't turn or back out. We kept going another 50 yards, and then it happened. A HUGE dog lunged out at us, and snapped its jaws at my driver's side window. It made us jump, but we recovered when we saw that Redneck Cujo was chained to his doghouse. Then I noticed something else lying beside the doghouse. I nudged Kathy and said "hey, look over there." At that moment, our jaws dropped when we realized what it was. What we first thought was another large dog sacked out on the ground beside the Attack Dog From Hell's clapboard kennel was in fact a full deer carcass. It was at that moment that Kathy and I looked at each other, mouths agape, and said to one another "Aw, Hell no!!!" I put the car in reverse and we headed back to Harrisonburg as best we could. We were laughing all the way back over this, especially after I came up with my three theories of how the deer had ended up a tasty snack for Damien II: Electric Boogaloo. They are as follows: The owner found the deer as roadkill and decided it was cheaper than buying a 50-lb. bag of dog food. The owner shot the deer on a hunting trip and decided "Hell, I'll give it to Dolchstoss Jr. He'll eat it up!" That dog was the meanest sumbitch ever put on God's Green Earth BTW, we think that when Kathy told the agent that we were looking to put up a modular, she thought we meant "trailer". We looked, and along Mayberry/Copperhead Road, it was wall-to-wall trailers, and not one true modular home. Craziness.