Monday, December 12, 2005

The Outlaw Birders of Central Standard

A chilly west wind blew the gray December morning in stiffly as those adventurous outlaw birders hit the road at 7am on a Sunday. South down US 63 they headed, just past the airport, scanning the cloudy skies for signs of hawks or other birds of prey. The driver of the car, the most notorious outlaw birder in the territory, was adept at staring into the sky and keeping his vehicle on the road. Only once this entire morning did the two hear the obnoxious growl of the shoulder rumble strips.

As they pulled into their destination, ignoring the sign at the gate saying "Not for Public Use," they unpacked the tools of their nefarious trade: binoculars (pearl-handled and lightning fast), field guides (obtained on the black market), and a spotting scope (for long-distance work...and fearsome to say the least). They pulled up next to a shed, and with no concern for the laws of God or man, coolly stepped over the chain that blocked the road into the "state property."

To be honest, there was some trepidation on the part of the two outlaws. On the other side of that chain, guarded by vicious flocks of robins and cedar waxwings, stood horrors unknown. There, hanging from the chain, hung a sign, at which the two nervously chuckled : "Abandon hope, all ye who enter."

"Ha," said one to the other. Yet, inside, they felt a bit of fear rising up. A bit of fear.

A few yards into the sanctuary, they saw a cross planted in the ground. Too tall for a grave marker, but too short for a clothesline or a bean pole, the purpose of these poles was unclear. Suddenly, it dawned on one of them.

"They crucifixes."


"Yeah, fer crucifyin' midgets."

"Crucifyin' midgets?"

"Like Jesus."

"They crucifyin' tiny Jesuses?"

"Yeah, they hangin' 'em up all over. Look."

They crested a ridge and below them stood an expansive sunken Calvary in the middle of their world. Dozens of these tiny crosses dotted the valley below. But all were empty.

"Where all the tiny Jesuses?"

"Don't know, but it is Christmas time."

"Yeah? So?"

"Maybe they all in nativity mangers."

"Oh, yeah. Maybe."

"I got a bad feelin' about this place."

"Me, too."

"We oughta go."

"Yeah." Overhead, a platoon of marauding robins called their dastardly sweet melodies to each other.

They walked quickly back to their getaway car, these outlaw birders, trying not to betray their fear one to the other. Even a bluebird was not enough to lift the black mark of fear from their craven hearts. Their crime of choice: looking at birds on restricted state property, fearing not a whit laws or fines, Conservation police or armed militia. But a valley full of tiny Jesus crucifixes sure will get them worked up.


Anonymous said...

Please tell me that the crucifixes on state property is part of the western outlaw story that you wove?!

Ridiculously hectic day - must go now. More later hopefully.


Anonymous said...

So I have a few free moments, and upon hours of subsequent reflection (why yes, Central Standard really *is* that compelling!) I'm figuring that the crucifixes on state property piece was likely not added for dramatic effect.

Why do I think there may have been any dramatic effect added in the first place? A good question, my clever blogger and devoted blogees. Perhaps the first inkling came with the use of "outlaw" applied to He Who Does Not Even Consider Crossing Over The Double Yellow Line. (You know what I'm talkin about, Reda.)

So assuming that there truly are crucifixesque fixtures on state property, I challenge you to rise to the question: What the eff?

And that is a decent-enough segue to my next comment. Whenever I post anon, I am required to type in a series of letters presented random and squigglestyle presumably so as to prevent all those bold and unapologetic posters who were all over your blog isht back in the day. Sometimes these letters I have to type are interesting to me. This time the letters could maybe come together in such a way as to create what I have come to call trendyword, trendyspeak, or trendyverb (short for trendyverbiage) a la all the izzles and isht and the like. The letters/trendyword today is: qiziz. As in, "I hate qiziz. Qiziz in maff suck".

So I'm qizizin you about the why of the crucifixes. Why, Reda? Why? (Not to be confused as, "Why Reda? Why?" because I got mad comma skills.)


ATR said...

I like the Trendyverbiage idea. Good one. Outlaws, crucifixes, tiny Jesuses. A fiction based on a true story. But, aren't they all? If you want, you can speculate to your heart's content which is troof and which is fixion. Gotta give a sister something to do with all that brain she gots.

Dig it. Dig on it. The speculation with the brain. Dig. Dig on the brain speculation. Dig it.

I remain (as my own given random "trendy word") uvpphd. It seems to be a past tense conjugation of the verb "uvpph."

Possible uses:

That isht is fickied uvpphd.

The price on my Converse just got uvppvd.

Life is full uvpphs and dovwns.

And, of course:

Hey, Jammy, it's Uncle Tony uvpph dem!


Anonymous said...

Uncle Tony of them, you are all gcjsjlfu all the time!

Anon J