02/16/01

Found myself driving up and down the road checking in on Stash Skimington’s farmhouse, obsessing over my wife stopping in there. Pretty pathetic, I know. As far as I can figure, her visit there after work lasted about 8 minutes. She probably just talked over the leaky sink, wrote him out a check, but I guess you never can tell.

Last time me and Phebe were together on Ground Hog Day we pretty much covered the whole gamut in less then 8 minutes time. They could have done a quarter of the gamut in that time, I suppose. It’s not like they would have been in practice enough to complete the whole gamut in 8 minutes.

Last girlfriend Stash had was into miniature horses and alpacas and all that shit. She had all the paddocks around Stash’s barn filled up with a menagerie not realizing Stash didn’t own any of the land anymore and that the new owner was seeking approval for a new road to be put in right through the very place where all those animals stood. Apparently Stash tried to keep this under wraps as long as he could, but one day the heavy machinery arrived and the truth was revealed. Someone said the gal was seen chasing Stash around with an elastic band alpaca castrating tool, but I don’t know how true that story is.

I really don’t know what got into me. I found myself driving over to Probation Officer Barbie’s neighborhood too. I drove by her house a couple of times, didn’t see hide nor hair of her. Didn’t realize I was being noticed by the brute husband, though. I thought to myself, oh, shit! He hopped in the car and followed me for a couple of miles on the back roads. Drove right up on my tail, the psycho menace. Thought for sure the fucker was gonna start shooting at me or something. Eventually the fucker decides to pass me. Or so it seems at first he’s gonna pass me. But what he’s really doing is cutting me off, driving me off the road. The fucker’s got me run half off the road down in a ditch. Thankfully I didn’t bust up the steering or blow out the tire, but I have all I can do to inch my way back onto the pavement.

The fucker turns his car around and drives past me slowly, glaring at me with this angry, psycho look. I was probably lucky the cop came along just then. He wanted to know what happened, of course. I could have told him, I was driven off the road by my probation officer’s psycho husband after he saw me drive up and down past her house, but somehow it just seemed too complicated.

Damn deer ran right out in front of me, I say.