At 3 am I poke Linda.
“Do we have a gas oven?” I ask.
“No. Stop thinking and go to sleep.” She tells me.
The next morning when I wake up all the knives have disappeared. Weird how things like that happen.
My annual midnight approaches and I begin preparing for the yearly “Running away from home.” I’m not sure why I “run away” once a year but I like to blame Disney. Kids in the Disney story hour and films were always running away from home and it seemed a good life choice for them.
Why does Disney have such an influence on my life choices? Well, I didn’t have much other input growing up. I mean there were bible classes, bible lessons, memorizing bible scriptures, bible games, going to a private bible school, reading books about parts of the bible and a few Disney movies and the Disney Story Hour. Considering the things the bible teaches you (IF you don’t like someone, invite them to sleep in your tent then pound a stake through their head; Of if you want to disembowel someone, or swallow them up in an earthquake, set them on fire, kill them with a jawbone of a donkey, kill them while their hair is tangled, chop them up in 12 pieces and send them as messages...I learned all that as a kid). So I think we should all be thankful that Toby Tyler and The Black Hole became more of an influence. For example I learned from The Black Hole that cannibalizing your friends or turning them into faceless zombies is BAD....and while it may work for many years eventually you will be found out.
Back to “running away from home”; a friend asked, “Do you get far.” Well, no, not usually since I tend to run away on the exact same day every year. This year, with the wheelchair, living on an island and needing to sleep every 5-6 hours, it will be especially difficult. I’ll need to get one of those suitcases with wheels and tie it to the back of the chair.
And what do I expect to happen with this annual hoboism? Well, there is the possibility of jail for trespassing; only I think that jail probably won’t be as erotic as either the L-word or lesbian exploitation movies make it seem. I also have a hankering for “shank fights” in the railway yard, except being on an island.....no rail yards. In Disneyvision memories, running away usually meant you either a) met someone like pippi longstocking and had great fun usually riding a horse b) you were picked up by a kind couple who happened to run a circus and taught you the high wire act or c) you were picked up by what appeared a kind couple who were actually bank robbers and through a series of adventures you ended up getting some sort of medal from the police. Of course you could pull the old “family hour” trick of “running away” but actually hiding in the barn/stables/old storage room. None of these really work for me anymore (or in a small apartment). In my “new” fantasy; I am instead picked up by a troupe of lesbian erotic dancers and we tour the province, as they work out how to teach me wheelchair pole dancing and I finally return, rich, muscular in unusual places and oddly flexible in my upper body with a satisfied smile on my face.
I’ll let you know how it turns out.
3 hours ago