Shetbag has a new thang going on over there. I got to go first, which is cool, ‘cuz I really, really, really like to be first at all times.
The New Thang works thusly… CG makes her readers do all the work when she gets lazy. I guess I shouldn’t say that – I thought it was a really cool idea (and she even gave me credit for it, although I don’t really remember coming up with it), and I do like to be referred to as Royalty – mainly because of that “I was stolen from Royalty and later found in a ditch by my adoptive family” fantasy that many kids have.
In my case, it’s true, though. My Un-Brother Ken will corroborate the “ditch” part of the story – the rest I had to figure out on my own.
Today, I get “Goddess”, which is even that much better than “Royalty”. Now, I can tell people I was stolen from… ummm… Heaven. Yeah.
ANYway… CG saved my butt – I have no post today, on account of I need a snake picture. Anybody wanna ante up on that? I’ll give you appropriate credit of course.
The Burglar Frog Taken July 29, 2009 with Canon PowerShot A550
I think she’s starting to enjoy the notoriety of being my Blog Star, such as it is.Ruby has this motion sensor frog ornament in her breezeway. I don’t like the thing, because I forget that it’s there, and every time I go to visit her it croaks at me and scares the shit out of me.
Every single time.
I once asked her why she had the horrid thing, and she laughed and said, “To warn me if a burglar tries to get in.”
Since then, I’ve always referred to it as “The Burglar Frog”. It would scare a burglar away, too; I’m certain of it.
I was over there in the wee hours of the night (possibly yesterday?), and we were sitting there having our coffee and working the crossword puzzle when the Burglar Frog “went off”. I waited for a knock on the door, but none came.
“Is someone here…?” I asked Ruby.
“Why?” she wanted to know.
“Your frog just croaked,” I replied.
“Huh. I never even heard it,” Ruby said, getting up and going toward the door. “I must have a burglar.”
I didn’t particularly like hearing that and got up to try and beat her to the door. I was over there later than usual, since my sleeping patterns have all been blown to hell. It was after midnight, and although Ruby is a night owl, the idea of her answering her door to a burglar kind of made the heebie-jeebies start in me.
She still managed to get to the door first, though, because she made me pause when she called back to me, “Remind me to sing you The Burglar Song….”
We discovered no burglar… the frog was playing tricks on us. I still wanted to hear The Burglar Song, though, whatever that was, and when Ruby sang it to me, I immediately wanted to know if she would let me record it and post it here.
She agreed.
I was a little surprised at how readily she agreed. I think she’s starting to enjoy the notoriety of being my Blog Star, such as it is. Just in case she changed her mind, though, I booted it home to get the recorder (encountering no burglars), and booted it back in less than three minutes. I love living this close to her…
I powered up the recorder and she started to sing. Half-way through the song, she realized she’d left out a verse.
Take 2: She got half-way through again, and had herself a coughing jag.
Take 3: She got half-way through, and suddenly couldn’t remember one of the verses.
Take 4: Success!
I came home, not in the least bit sleepy and decided to write this post…
And my F-ing computer told me there was no room for the audio file. I said my Dad’s Magic Word about then, I think.
I spent the rest of the night backing up old photos and video and clearing space on the hard-drive.
Later, having slept for most of the day, I was back at Ruby’s for more coffee and a fresh crossword.
“Did I sing to the internet?” she wanted to know.
I had to tell her that, no, I hadn’t got the post written, nor the photo ’shopped, nor the audio edited.
“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Do you still have your thingamajig in your pocket?”
I pulled out my recorder, wondering what she was going to sing for me this time…
“I was hoping I could hear myself,” she said, and I obligingly pushed the ‘play’ button…
Whereupon, Ruby discovered that she’d left out an entire verse during Take 4. Again.
She said that just wouldn’t do, and after dictating to me the first line of every verse on her notepad, so she’d have something to jog her memory, she proceeded to sing the song again perfectly, without ever looking at her cheat sheet.
Give it a listen – it’s funny as hell. I’ve provided the lyrics below the player, if you have any trouble with Ruby’s Canuckian accent (this means you, CardioGirl).
Push ‘play’ to hear Ruby Herself singing ‘The Burglar’ Song
The Burglar Song
I’ll tell you a story of a burglar bold
Who went to rob a house.
He opened a window, and then crept in
As quiet as a mouse.
He looked around for a place to hide
‘Til the folks were all asleep.
And then, said he, with vehmeny,
“I’ll take a quiet sleep.”
So under the bed the burglar crept,
He crept up close to the wall.
He didn’t know it was an old maid’s room,
Or he’d never have had the gall.
He thought of the money that he would steal,
While under the bed he lay.
At 9 o’clock, he saw a sight
That made his hair turn gray.
At 9 o’clock the old maid came home.
“I am so tired,” she said.
She thought that all was well that night,
So she didn’t look under the bed.
She took out her teeth, her big glass eye,
And the hair all off of her head.
The burglar, he had forty fits,
While he watched from under the bed.
From under the bed, the burglar crept.
He was a total wreck.
The old maid wasn’t asleep at all,
And she grabbed him by the neck.
She didn’t holler, or shout, or yell.
She was as cool as a clam.
She only said, “The Saints be praised!
At last, I’ve got a man!”
From under the pillow, she drew out a gun,
And to the burglar she said,
“Young man, if you don’t marry me,
I’ll blow off the top of your head.”
She held him firmly by the neck.
He hadn’t a chance to scoot.
He looked at the gun and the big glass eye,
And said, “Madam, hurry and shoot.”
He was wonderful company for the last few years. I’m really going to miss him…I took this video in May, when Sheikh was still sleeping above my head.
Not very long ago, he was his usual fat and fluffy self, but then became boney and light as air in a few short weeks. He eventually stopped eating altogether. He hid out most of the time, and what kept me awake during that time was not his snoring, but my nerves, while I tried to search him out, hoping not to find him dead under the stairs or the couch.
“He’s old, though,” I thought. “It may soon be time…”
Monday, he stopped drinking water. By 5 am Tuesday morning, he was gone. I wish now that I could say I’d just found him dead, having gone to sleep and stayed that way. The way he did die was hard to watch – he was in pain, a lot of pain, I think, and I have a huge amount of guilt over not getting him to a vet in time to either heal him of whatever caused this, or to save him from a such a hard death.
He was wonderful company for the last few years. I’m really going to miss him…
We took him out to The Dog-Lady’s farm to bury him. On the way there, I told The Evil Hypnotist that no way were we getting another cat. I don’t want to get attached to any more pets. No. Way.
Ky was upset: The Patchouli-Cat has never been alone… she will miss Sheikh, too… she needs another cat for company….
No. Way.
When we got there, I opened my door to step out, and five large dogs piled into the van. I was trying to get them out when they noticed the box with Sheikh in it. It was really odd to watch them. They obviously realized that whatever was in that box was dead, and I would have expected them to try to get into it, but they didn’t. They got very quiet, sniffed at the box, and one by one (by one, by one, by one) they all filed back out the driver’s door.
By the time I got over to Ky, she was sitting in a lawn-chair, cuddling a teeny-tiny black kitten.
Well, shit.
I said, “No. Way.”
She said, “Please…?”
I said, “No. Way.”
She said, “Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase?!”
I looked at The Dog-Lady, and said, “Help me, would you?”
And The Dog-Lady looked back at me and replied, “Hey, you owe me. I took your dog.”
Shetbag.
For the record, I am not attached to this little monster. Not.
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