by R. J. Kottke
The girl looked in the Question Book and silently moved her lips as she read. After a few minutes she looked back up and said firmly, “According to the book, our mailman absolutely has to put our mail in the mailbox. ” The girl was impatiently tapping her foot as she pointed to the passage, “Ye know that the princes of the gentiles exercise over them, and they that are great exercise authority upon them.”
The guy gave the girl a confused look. “What does that even mean?”
The girl rolled her eyes, “Let me interpret for you, ‘The rulers of the people rule over them, and important people have authority.’”
The guy still looked lost. “Umm...so what does that have to do with our mail?”
The girl gave the guy an incredulous look before explaining, “Well, I think that the book is telling us we’re the ones in charge here. If we want our mail in the mailbox, the mailman has no choice but to do it.” She put the Question Book down and began tapping her other foot.
The guy still didn’t look too convinced. “We’re not rulers, but maybe we’re important people.....after all, we’re professors.”
“Well, I think we’re important people. Oh, and we pay taxes too! So the mailman works for us and therefore we are his rulers. The Question Book says so!” At this, she folded her arms.
Oh brother! The girl had just found the answer she wanted, but I was pretty sure it didn’t match her question. Even I knew if you’re going to use the Question Book, you need to read the answer first to know if you’re even asking the right question; not the other way around. Was Peepaw ever right. I did have more sense than the both of them.
The guy, (nearly not as quick witted as I am), didn’t have an immediate response, and he stayed quiet as he thought about what the girl had said. After a little while, he shook his head in agreement, “I think you’re right!”
I had a feeling this was going to end badly. Hopefully, they wouldn’t involve me in the issue. I still had plans on taking my afternoon nap.
“Well then,” the guy asked, “What do you think we should do about it?”
“You should go to the post office and talk to someone in charge. Maybe you can get it sorted out.”
The guy looked over at me and I silently thought, “Oh please, oh please, let me nap.”
That didn't happen. The guy stood and said, “Want to go the post office Bippy?”
I shook my head no, but he pretended not to notice. He grabbed my leash. Drat! No nap this afternoon. I really didn’t want to go to the post office. It's not like I cared anyway since I don't get snail mail anymore.
1:30 post meridiem
Since we were the only ones at the post office, we walked right up to the counter. The old guy at the front was skinny and had a long gray beard. I could tell by his eyes that he was not a peanut head but he talked like one, especially when he kept repeating, “I just work here.”
The guy was patient at first and tried to explain that mail should not go on the ground. I took a seat since it looked like this was going to take a while. I saw something that looked like a potato chip in the corner, but when I tried to get to it I found out that my leash wasn't quite long enough. When I strained against the leash the guy gave a firm tug. I guess he was more frustrated than he was letting on.
With nothing else to do, I just looked around. That's when I saw the postal clerk reach under the counter, and from where I was positioned I could see him hit a button several times. A rather large and intimidating guy in a red tie and white shirt came out. “Is there a problem?”
The guy answered, “No, there's no problem. I...”
He was interrupted by the old postal clerk, “He's complaining about his mail delivery.” He pointed an accusing finger at the guy.
“I wasn't complaining. All I wanted to know is why the mailman keeps leaving my mail on the ground.”
The manager pointedly asked, “Do you have a regulation mailbox?”
“A regulation mailbox?”
“If you don't have a regulation mailbox, we can't officially deliver mail to it.”
The guy looked a little deflated. “Oh, I didn't know that.” He thought for a moment. “I really can't say if our mailbox is a regulation mailbox. Maybe it's not. I guess I'll have to go home and check.”
The manager reached under the counter and pulled out a pamphlet. “Here's some information on the guidelines. It should tell you whether or not you have the proper type.”
The guy took the information and looked very embarrassed, and said things like, “Sorry for all the trouble,” and “I really should have checked this first.” We left as quickly as we arrived. On the way out I was able to reach the potato chip.
Day 24: Too Many Questions
9:00 ante meridiem
We were the first ones in line at the post office the next morning. After the guy had confirmed that our mailbox was a regulation mailbox installed at regulation height, he had some more questions.
The clerk from the previous day greeted us with, “Did you get a new mailbox?”
“About that,” the guy said, “I went home yesterday and after checking the guidelines, it looks like I have the correct type of mailbox. It's the right size, in the right location, and mounted on the correct type of post.”
“Oh,” was all that the guy said. “Anything else I can help you with?”
“Now wait a minute. I'm not done discussing the issue yet. Can you please tell me why the mailman has been placing my mail on the ground even though I have the right type of mailbox?”
The mail clerk answered, “Your mail is not being delivered correctly because you don't have a regulation mailbox.” The guy looked incredulous. Before he could argue with the clerk, the screech of tires startled all of us.
We turned around and out of the large storefront window, saw that a large black SUV had skidded to a stop. A man and a woman wearing black suits and mirrored sunglasses jumped out and headed inside. I recognized both of the suits, they had both been at the church parking lot, and the man was the same one that I’d seen at the checkpoint during our move here.
As the suits were walking in, the guy went back to trying to reason with the clerk, who was now sorting through some mail and ignoring him. The guy looked like he was going to do something dramatic, but before he could, the woman in the suit came up behind him and said, “You're asking a lot of questions.”
The guy just frowned and ignored the lady. He turned back to the clerk and slapped the counter, “I want to know why you're not answering my question.” The clerk continued to ignore him. The guy reached over the counter, as if to get the clerk's attention but the man in the suit stopped him. “You've asked your question and you've been told your answer.”
“But it wasn't the right answer!”
The suit man looked aggressive, “You're getting your mail aren't you?” He took a step towards the guy, “Are we going to have a problem here?”
9:30 ante meridiem
The guy was shook up. He didn't say much on the drive home. If only my leash were longer; I would have charged the suits and given them a good lecture.
2:41 post meridiem
The guy and I were hanging out in the office again. The girl came running up the stairs and nearly out of breath she exclaimed, “There’s a guy in a suit digging around in our trash can.”
The guy looked frightened.
“If he's concerned, we do separate out the recyclables!”
Day 28: Questions, Questions, and More Questions
11:22 ante meridiem
The guy was badly frightened by what happened at the post office, but he found some solace in searching through the Question Book with the girl. They spent a lot of time asking questions and then looking for answers in the old book.
At first, their questions had been kind of cute. They would ask things like, “Where does belly button lint come from?” and “Why do pickles smell sour?” Three days later, I didn't find the questions so cute anymore. They asked questions as soon
as they got up in the morning and they asked questions late into the night, right up to the time they went to bed.
They asked questions when they took me for a walk and they asked questions when they fed me the latest dog food monstrosity they picked up at the local feed store, Pickled Cow Brains in Sweet Cajun Sauce.
They asked questions when they made breakfast and they asked questions when they made dinner. Questions, questions, questions, and then, when I thought they reached their limit, even more questions.
I even heard them asking questions in their sleep. They woke me out of a deep sleep and I eventually had to go downstairs and crawl into my playpen so I could get some rest.
It’s been said that there is no such thing as a dumb question, only a dumb answer. That’s not true. There are dumb questions, and I heard a lifetime’s worth.
Day 30: Security Perimeter
5:30 ante meridiem
I met up with Gail Svensen early this morning. In between digging for grubs he warned, “Be careful, eh. The store ran out of cow brains. The peanut heads will be hungry.”
If it weren't for the fact that I needed to be very careful about protecting my brain, I would have been greatly relieved. Those brains weren't doing any favors for my digestive tract.
After bidding Gail adieu, I went back inside and found the guy's cell phone. Thankfully, the girl had recently trimmed my nails so I was able to punch in Peepaw's phone number. I made a mental note to pester the guy until he put the number on speed dial.
After several rings, Peepaw answered the phone. “Is that you Bippy?” I barked a warning to watch his brain since the store was out of cow brains. Peepaw didn't seem bothered at all, “Don't worry Bippy, I trust in God and carry a big gun. Besides, Hilda won't get too hungry. I made sure to stock some extra cow brains in the deep freeze.”
After I said goodbye to Peepaw, I hung up the phone and opened the pantry door. Garlic? Garlic? Where was it? I looked for a while and finally found a small bag of garlic heads. I got busy peeling – I needed to set up a perimeter.
7:45 ante meridiem
When the guy and girl came down, the guy was the first to notice that the living room couch was pushed up against the front door. About the same time the girl noticed the kitchen table pushed up against the back door. They both looked really confused. The guy, then the girl, looked at me. That's when I laid down on the floor and began tending to my toenails – one of the techniques I regularly use to distract them. To my chagrin, they moved all the furniture back.
2:39 post meridiem
The guy and girl have been in their office most of the day. The girl has found a new sweater pattern. Shudder.
4:22 post meridiem
The girl came down to start dinner. She opened the pantry and looked for quite a while, then called upstairs, “Do you know where the garlic is? I bought a whole sleeve a couple days ago.” The guy answered back, “Haven't seen it. Can you use onions instead?”
“Humph!” she said to herself, “I know I'm not crazy. That garlic was here a couple days ago.” In the end, she did end up substituting onions.
11:22 post meridiem
The guy and the girl were fast asleep. I just come back in from a late night call, and as I was about to head upstairs, I heard some rustling from out in the backyard. I made my way over to the large kitchen window overlooking the back and saw a group of peanut heads making their way to our back door. Apparently the strings of garlic didn’t work.
The group, which consisted of E.M. her grandson Robbie, Mike our mailman, and a couple of peanut heads from up the street, walked stiffly, holding their hands out in front of them. Their usual blank stares looked different; they looked more alert, almost crazed. The drool coming from their mouths did nothing to detract from that effect.
They came to the back door and tried to open it. It was a good thing that I had locked it. E.M. rattled the doorknob for a few good shakes but when she saw that she wasn't going to be opening the door anytime soon, the group made their way to the front door. THE FRONT DOOR! I had forgot to lock it. D'urgence!
I raced through the dining room and quickly locked the deadbolt. I then ran upstairs and jumped on the bed. I must have really startled the guy because he sat straight up. I extended my paw to its full length to the direction of the front door, directly beneath us.
“What the...?!!!” He turned on the lamp on the end table. “What's wrong with you Bippy?” The girl roused. “Does he need another pill?” Oh drat! I forgot that I wasn't pointing correctly. After my last attempt to point at the summer barbecue fiasco, I went online to research pointing techniques. I realized I had been doing it all wrong.
I readjusted, bent my arm sharply at the elbow, and re-pointed, a little more dramatically in the hopes that they would pay attention. Fat chance of that happening. The last thing I remembered was a tasty piece of Brie, subtly hiding a very small pill.
Day 31: Questions about the Questions
9:22 ante meridiem
We were all out at the farm again today. Hilda was busy in the kitchen making breakfast and did not pay much attention to us. This was a good thing because I was still groggy from the late night pill.
Apparently the peanut head zombies had given up when they weren’t able to get the door open. But I did have enough of my faculties to look both ways before I walked out the door this morning. Just in case a hungry peanut head or two had gotten stuck in the bushes. There were none, but I did notice that E.M.’s cat had been active in the yard again.
Peepaw was rocking on his recliner, drinking his instant coffee. I crawled up next to him and got comfy. Peepaw smelled a little fresher today, a bit like baby powder. Last night must have been bath night, thanks to Hilda.
The guy and girl were excited to show Peepaw all they learned from the Question Book, which they brought along. They excitedly blurted out, “We now know where belly button lint comes from!”
Peepaw spit out his instant coffee, “What? You need to ask some real questions.” The guy and girl looked confused. Peepaw thought for a moment and then said, “Let me show you how this works. Here’s something out of the Question Book, ‘Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped.’ That’s a real good answer, now you just need to figure out the question! ”
The guy and the girl looked even more confused.
Peepaw gave me a drink of his coffee and sighed, “Alright, you two look more confused than a cow eating plastic grass. I guess you’ll need a real life example. Why do you think that Hilda only talks about cow brain strudel all the time?” The guy and girl shrugged. Peepaw continued, “I'll tell you why. She's a peanut head. Pure and simple. Nothing up there in the old noggin,” he tapped his head, “but pink packing peanuts. She can't think beyond cow brains and hot baths.”
The guy tried to shush Peepaw, “You know Hilda's in the kitchen don't you?”
“So? It don't make any difference. Just watch.” Peepaw called for Hilda, who came into the living room holding a rolling pin. “Hilda,” Peepaw asked, “How are you feeling today?”
“Strudel is easy to make. Fresh cow brains are the best.”
“Hilda, what are your plans for today?”
“And strudel cooks best at 400F.”
“Have you read any good books lately?”
“Left over strudel makes a good snack.”
“See,” Peepaw said, “Nothing but packing peanuts for brains.”
The girl scolded Peepaw after Hilda went back into the kitchen to finish breakfast, “Now Peepaw, you're going to hurt Hilda's feelings.”
But Peepaw argued, “You’re missing the point girl. Don’t you see. You got to ask some good questions, like, ‘If the ears of the deaf are supposed to be unstopped, why doesn’t Hilda hear most of what we say?’ and ‘If the eyes of the blind are gonna be opened, why on earth can’t you two geniuses see what’s right in front of your faces?’”
“Now Peepaw,” the girl was using her conflict
resolution tone, “We don’t have to say hurtful things. Hilda can hear us and we see you just fine. Let’s work on affirming each other and building up each other’s self-esteem.”
This conversation was getting boring so I took one last sip of Peepaw's coffee and jumped down and nosed around a bit.
The girl went on about Hilda's emotional well-being but Peepaw just kept saying that peanut heads didn't have feelings.
The argument was interrupted when Hilda called out, “Strudel’s ready.”
Before Peepaw got up from his recliner he said one last parting shot, “Heck, even you're dog asks better questions than the two of you do.”
Unfortunately, they all looked over at me at the most inopportune time – I was smelling Peepaw's shoe.
1:48 post meridiem
On the way home, the guy said, “Bippy’s drinking way too much coffee at Peepaw's. I think that we need to monitor his caffeine intake. No more letting him lap up left over coffee from our cups.” The girl heartily agreed as it was just another thing she could monitor.
2:30 post meridiem
It’s a nice sunny day, which got me to thinking about my famous suntan recipe.
The suntan is the most misunderstood and misapplied of all ancient art forms. The mistake that most novices make when performing this most elusive practice is that they do not follow the time proven recipe for properly baking in the sun. As a courtesy, I will share with my viewing audience, my secret recipe for a most perfect suntan. All revenues and royalties can be sent to my mailing address.
Step 1. One must thoroughly sauté one’s self before going out into the sun. Some proven sauces include dirt, deliciously ripened tuna, and my all time favorite, dirty laundry.
Step 2. Pre-heat. Nothing ruins the possibility of a perfect suntan more than doing it half-baked.
Step 3. Make sure the temperature is 90 F. Any cooler will leave you looking pasty. Any hotter will make you wish you looked pasty.