Today started off weirdly.
I was woken between seven and eight by incredible crashing noise. I leapt up, sure that a tree had fallen . . . on the garage, on the house, taken out the chicken house, SOMETHING. I ran all around like the proverbial chicken with head cut off trying to find the source of such a brief-yet-tremendous commotion . . .and could find nothing.
There were a whole lot of turkey feathers — especially little downy turkey baby feathers — out at the fence, though. Now, four turkeys were walking down the driveway calmly on the other side of the house while I was running about . . . and I really hope that no animal attacked them. But even good ole’ turkey family fighting . . . I mean, that would/should in no way have made me think TREE CRASHING THROUGH A BUILDING. Right? Wouldn’t you agree?
Still haven’t found out the cause. Honestly, was wishful dream thinking that The Thorns had been knocked off the mountain by the mighty hand of God . . . but alas, no, they are still there.
Oh, speaking of The Thorns (get ready, your favorite part!) . . . the character who was known as “Serial Killer” was recently replaced in the rental lineup by someone who . . . is going to require a hefty dose of behavior modification. Oh indeed.
We’ve noticed, Neighbor’s noticed, that this particular addition doesn’t seem to appreciate the slow speed with which one should respectfully treat their gravel driveway. Nay, he seems to have confused our small, country one lane gravel driveway with Charlotte Highway. So there is that.
Then, the other day on our way in, we stopped to get the trash can since it was Trash Day . . . and Knobby hauls the bin while I drive. Well, I look up from having gotten in and punching my seat button . . . and find that here this new Thorn is in front of me (having been flying down the driveway, naturally). Honestly (and Knobby agreed, from his standpoint watching this go down while standing on the side of the road holding our trash bin), the new addition was a bit RUDE to me . . . after I had had to back up for him IN MY OWN DRIVEWAY, mind you . . .
Yes. Behavior Modification will come, disrespectful boychild Thorn. It will come. Knobby hates, HATES that he will punch his gate code and then spin his back Jeep tires out in his haste to fly up the driveway. Oh does Knobby hate that. The increasing hole at our gate that has newly developed since his arrival.
What do I hate? Oh, you know how I hate the disrespect we have frequently (far too frequently) witnessed in the grassy median of our two driveways here. BUT. Last night, this yahoo (and it is, certifiably, undeniably him when you see this in the high def original footage rather than the compressed content that goes up on our site video) exhibited THE most egregious disrespect for personal driveway property we’ve yet to see.
Just look at this imbecile:
Oh readers. Readers.
Cover your eyes and ears, because I’m going to be unladylike here and tell you that this has surpassed “Oh HELL no” territory.
We have even left the MORE severe “Oh HAYL no” redneck good-ole-boy revenge territory with this footage.
We have entered, my readers, personal undying vendetta territory. I may have uttered an unladylike “hell” up there, but you don’t even want to IMAGINE the new term I just called him while muttering about what type of person would require this variety of behavior modification.
Oh no. No, we have to go wash our mouth out with the antibacterial soap.
I feel better, though, when I picture myself . . . like this . . . but with spike strips . . .
. . . descending upon him with spike strips in my hands the next time he flies down my driveway so rudely.
Wouldn’t that be deliciously rewarding behavior modification.
Just you wait, new addition.