Monterey HiJack

I celebrated the first day of September this year by tossing down a few at Think-A-Holic Lounge before moseying on down to the Lebenty Leben for a brick of Monterey Jack cheese. I love eating Monterey Jack with just about anything, especially if there's a dill pickle involved.

My brain was full of think-a-hol and happy thoughts when I suddenly remembered that my supply of Monterey Jack cheese always seems to disappear before I ever get to finish that last little hunk snugly wrapped up in the plastic wrapper. I also realized that this crap had been going on all summer long and that I'd better find out why before other things started disappearing from my fridge as well.

Well, I didn't have to think about it for very long. When I got home from the Lebenty Leben I caught this little yellow goober (see pic) pilfering my last hunk of Monterey Jack cheese while humming the theme song from Star Wars.

He said his name was YipYup and that he was from the planet Urbane, in a neighboring solar system. When I asked him why he'd been stealing my Monterey Jack cheese he glibly replied that he, and all other Urbanians, simply had a right to do so.

That made me think about another bunch of little celestial visitors who often say the same thing about snatching anything they want off planet Earth and that got my dander up. And that's when I tossed this YipYup's alien butt out of the house. He landed hard enough that he'll think twice before grazing around here again.

Thus, I not only defended my home against future grazing aliens, I helped make the world's Monterey Jack cheese supply safe from alien raiders for many generations yet to come.

One Way

Angus and I get a kick out of this one guy (pictured) who strolls into the Lounge every Friday night for a single malt scotch which he later chases with a Canadian brew and a bag of pork rinds (go figure). We call him One Way but only behind his back.

Every road in the universe apparently leads to this prick's doorstep but he'd be the first to deny it, if confronted. Hell, he'd probably be shocked if someone suggested that his whole life was a one-way street headed his way. The last time One Way was in Think-A-Holic Lounge Angus was in the process of telling me how much he was enjoying the hot summer weather when One Way rudely interrupted him. "Not me, man. I like winter. I don't understand how anybody can enjoy this sweltering July shit." Angus said nothing and went about his business.

A couple of minutes later I ordered some onion rings to go with my cheap draft beer and before Angus could depart for the kitchen One Way remarked, "Y'know, I don't understand how anyone can eat those onion rings and wash them down with that domestic stuff." I usually don't rock the boat and just let One Way have his say and tonight was to be no exception. But then he said, "Me, I'm a single-malt man. And a big fan of Canadian beer. Hell, that's all I drink. That's all I ever want to drink."

I turned to him and said, "Y'know, I don't understand how anyone can drink that overrated sour booze and drag on that over-priced brew like it was mother's milk but then I don't have to understand something to accept it. Or to just leave it alone. Here, let me buy you another round."

One Way looked at me like he'd been slapped in the face. Then he gulped down the rest of his imported beer, stuffed the half-eaten bag of pork rinds into his blazer and left in a big huff.

When Angus returned with my onion rings he asked me what happened to One Way and I replied, "I don't know. I guess he had too much reality for one evening."