by R. J. Kottke
Step 4. Set the timer. You want to be sure that you evenly roast on both sides. Unequal roasting or baking will only highlight the fact that you are a novice and may lead to constipation in the future (don’t ask any questions).
If you find that you have not evenly cooked on both sides, go back over the recipe and repeat steps 1 thru 4. If you find these instructions confusing, don’t worry. Just send me a self-address stamped envelope and I will send you some delicious cheese.
3:16 post meridiem
Back at home, I was sniffing around the backyard. It smelled suspiciously of Gail Svensen. I was about to head back in when I heard, “Over here, eh.” Gail was hiding behind a tree.
It was strange to see him in the afternoon. Didn't skunks sleep during the day? I went over to him since it was apparent he was in stealth mode and wasn't budging from behind the tree.
“Frenchman, you better watch out. The word on the street is that the suits are on to you guys, with all those questions at the post office, eh.” Before I could ask him where he heard that bit of disconcerting information, he scampered across the neighbor's yard, pausing briefly to swallow a grub he spotted on the way.
Day 32: Black Dog Ops
1:00 ante meridiem
It’s hour twenty-six and I'm still awake. Awake you ask? Yes, I say, awake and alert, with no rest in sight. I will not let them take me unawares. In a classified operation that has been designated “Black Dog Ops,” I am documenting the movement of the suits, as well as their peanut wards. I am stealthily keeping track of their every movement. Nothing they do will go unmonitored. Every step they take, I'll be watching them. How dare they come and try to liquefy my brain. Any attempt will only cause them a lifetime of pain.
The suits are my enemy now and as such, I must subdue and overtake them. I must wait. Wait and prepare for the opportune time! In the meantime, I will continue to avert swallowing my pills so that I am alert and sharp. If I have to, I will feed them to the guy, wrapped up in substandard grocery-store cheese.
6:30 ante meridiem
My head is pounding. Where was it? Where was my morning coffee? I saw my coffee mug but I didn’t smell the morning brew. Although the guy threatened that he would not let me drink coffee anymore, I didn’t think that he would actually go through with it. Barbare!
How dare he take away the only indulgence I have in my life. What’s next? My internet privileges? Supplying me with more lutefisk-flavored dog food? Oh, my head hurts. Please make the spots go away. And no, I won’t drink tea.
1:30 post meridiem
The pain in my head has reached an all time high. The coffee ban that has been so ruthlessly and viciously imposed on me has left me so disoriented that I nearly drank the herbal tea the guy left on the counter this afternoon.
As I paced the living room floor deciding my next course of action, I overheard the guy tell the girl that he feels my late night activities are really a symptom of the excessive consumption of coffee. As a result, he said he intends to finally and completely wean me from the “bean.” I wasn’t able to hear what the girl said in response. I quickly put Black Dog Ops on the backburner - Operation Bean was now my priority.
11:30 post meridiem
The guy cracked. It didn’t take long. At first, it was the light whining. That didn’t bother him too much at first, he just put the pillow over his head. The second step was the deep breathing in his face. That got his attention, especially since I found some deliciously-ripened pickled herring in the trash while I was looking for coffee grounds.
The final straw and key to my victory was the aggressive and systematic licking of my lips, which drove the guy crazy. Although it left my lips feeling a little chapped, this last step has ultimately assured me that I would have a fresh cup of coffee in my mug every morning.
Day 33: Better Questions
9:59 ante meridiem
Unfortunately I did not fully comprehend how obscenely tired I was. I slept past my morning coffee.
But on more a positive note, as I strolled into the office, I saw that the guy and the girl were finally using the Question Book in the right way. The guy read, “Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed.”
The girl put down her knitting (a bobbled tail warmer), “If that’s the answer, then I guess the question is, ‘Should we be afraid?’” After a thoughtful pause the guy spoke up, “I guess I need to be a little more courageous.”
10:27 ante meridiem
The guy and the girl are in the mood for hamburgers, even though they are technically pseudo-vegetarians. The last time either of them (me included) had a burger, was a week before we left Chicago, so the girl took me to the store to buy some buns and hamburger meat.
10:40 ante meridiem
The girl couldn't find any hamburger meat. The meat counter was stocked with cow brains in the form of roast, steak, ground, and cubed. However, there was not sight or sound of any beef patties that came from somewhere other than the brain.
The girl asked to talked to the head grocer after the peanut headed butcher at the meat counter wrapped up cow brain patties despite the girl's insistence that they were not the same as regular sirloin patties.
We were told that it would be fifteen minutes before we could talk to the head grocer since he was still on his lunch break. The girl crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the ground. She definitely was not leaving without asking her question.
10:55 ante meridiem
The head grocer met with the girl after his lunch break. Okay. I think I finally found someone who may need more therapy than I do. My diagnosis? Eccentricity Disorder, of the unspecified type. Before you point out the obvious, that this diagnosis is not actually in the PSM V, listen to why I think this newly created label might apply here.
Holstein colored and cashmere soft, “The cow brain sweater” was really a cry for help that originated deep from within the frustrated bowels of a person who felt that wearing a sweater with a graphic picture of a dissected cow brain on it enhances the work environment.
My diagnosis and statistical analysis stems from a previous study and is highly credible, not to mention irrefutable. My prescription? Well, if I was in private practice I would meet with my patient, (identified only as Grocer 241 due to confidentiality) over a period of two weeks to distribute electrical shocks. The voltage would be within the upper limits allowed by law, but as I am not currently licensed, I instead sniffed a package of cow brain ravioli.
The girl asked the grocer, “Why don't you carry other types of beef, like sirloin or chuck?”
The grocer, who I deemed to be a practical zombie, just smiled and said, “We can give you ten percent off a nice cow brain steak or fifteen percent off a cow brain pot roast.”
12:12 post meridiem
The guy and girl decided to go to the local diner for lunch. “Maybe we can get a regular old burger there,” the guy suggested. “I hope so,” the girl said, “because I can't seem to find a nice juicy sirloin anywhere.”
We went to the only restaurant in town, a simple northern Minnesotan establishment decorated with knotty pine paneling, quaint pictures of moose, and ghoulish fish taxidermy. The place smelled suspiciously like cow brains.
When we walked in, peanut heads were scattered about the various booths and tables. There were old farmer peanut heads, whole peanut headed families, and young teenaged peanut heads texting on their smart phones. They all stopped eating to stare at us and continued to do so, even when the waitress, Mabel, came to take our order.
I could tell right away that Mabel was not a peanut head, but she did have the looks of a practical zombie. “What'll ya have?” she asked, her pen ready to write down our order.
The guy said, “We'd like three sirloin burgers.” She wrote that down and repeated the order, “Three cow brain burgers. How’da like ‘em cooked?”
The guy shook his head, “No, not cow brain burgers. Three sirloin burgers.”
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br /> Mabel snapped her gum, “Don't got no sirloin here. Only brains. Ya want ketchup or mayo?”
The girl interjected, “Isn't it unhealthy to be eating so much cow brains. Aren’t they high in fat?”
Mabel blew a bubble then collapsed it, “Guess so. No one's ever asked that before. Maybe ya oughta take it up with public health or something.”
The girl nodded her head in agreement, “That's a good idea. After lunch, we'll head on over and talk to a public health nurse. They should know that they need to educate the community on healthy meat choices.”
In the end, we had three cow brain burgers. I took my extra well done to help disguise the taste. Good thing I had my probiotic this morning.
1:00 post meridiem
We went over to public health after lunch. After having to talk to five different people, we finally got to meet with a nurse. The girl asked, “Why is it that this town only seems to have cow brain meat available to the public? As a public health nurse, you should be very concerned since cow brains are high in fat.”
The nurse wrote down some information on her clip board as well as our phone number and address. She assured the guy and girl, “Someone will get back to you very soon.” I didn't like the sound of that so I started barking. I was quickly hushed and given a cow brain biscuit by the nurse.
Day 36: The Suits
8:00 ante meridiem
I happened to be looking out the living room window when a black SUV pulled up to the house. I immediately recognized the occupants of the vehicle – the man and woman suits from the post office. They looked intense as they briskly walked up to the house.
The hard knock shook the small house. The guy, dressed in shorts and flip flops, carried his bowl of cereal with him as he went to answer it. When he opened the door, he stopped mid-chew and just stood there.
The girl came in from the kitchen, curious to see who was out on the front porch. Since the guy had forgot all his manners, she stepped around him and said curiously, “Good morning?”
The woman answered, “We were contacted by the public health. They asked us to come over because they said you had a question.”
“Oh,” the girl answered looking slightly uncomfortable, “I thought I'd be talking to a doctor or at least a public health nurse.”
The suit woman spoke up, “Are you going to have a problem talking to us?”
The girl looked even more uncomfortable than before but she answered, “No, I don't think so. Just as long as the information gets relayed back to a medical professional.”
The suit man and suit woman looked at each other as if to say, “Fat chance,” but the suit woman answered, “Of course.”
The guy and girl invited the two suits to sit in the living room but not before offering them some cow brain cookies. I noticed that they hadn't even taken their sunglasses off. So much for my plan to look into their eyes to intimidate them.
“No thank you,” the woman said. Once everyone was seated, suit woman asked, “So what was your question?”
The guy cleared his throat before he said, “We want to know why there aren't any more healthy meat choices available in this town?”
“What do you mean?” the woman asked.
The girl stepped in, “How come the store and diner only have cow brains available as a meat option? I don't know if you've had any lately, but brains are not the healthiest or tastiest meat choice available.” The girl continued light-heartedly, “There are other parts to a cow, like sirloin, chuck, and t-bone. Besides that, there other meats like lamb, chicken, and turkey.”
The woman laughed, but not in a friendly way, “You sound a little paranoid to me. Pretty soon you're going to be complaining about the water supply.”
Even though the woman sounded condescending when she said that, I can say that after a thorough investigation of the city water, I have come to the conclusion that drinking the tap water in my bowl will shorten my life by 1.75 years. How have I come to know this? Research my friend, research. I am on a constant quest to expose the well-know dangers of chlorine and various other chemicals that have been secretly added to our drinking water. Besides, the guy sometimes drops dog kibble in my water bowl when it's his turn to feed me. They say a dog will eat and drink anything. Not this dog, not this day.
The suit man finally spoke, “You ask too many questions.”
The girl looked like a cup of cold water had been thrown over her head, “What?”
“I said you ask too many questions. You need to stop.”
The girl looked incredulous. She glanced at the guy seated next to her and sent him a clear look that shouted, “Do something!”
The guy put his cereal bowl down on the coffee table and came to the girl's defense, “Now look here. We have rights you know.”
The suit man said, “Not as many as you think.”
The guy sat there, unsure of how to answer such an absurd statement. The girl jumped up and went into the kitchen. When she came back out she was carrying the source of their questions.
She opened the Question Book and read aloud, “Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth.” She looked up. “See, the answer here tells us that we should be healthy. So my question is, ‘How is eating cow brains twenty-four/seven healthy?’”
Suit man asked suspiciously, “What are you doing with that? You're not supposed to have that.”
“You mean the Question Book?” the girl looked confused.
“Is that why you two have suddenly become so interested in asking questions?” the suit woman accused.
The girl handed the book over to the guy, who opened it up, “It says here in the Question Book that the answer is ‘Test all things; hold fast what is good.’ So the question is, ‘What are we supposed to test,’ and the answer is, ‘All things.’ So...I’m going to put you to the test, ‘Why shouldn't we have this book? ‘”
Both suit man and suit woman stood and looked very aggressive. I was surprised how vicious a woman in a pant suit could look. Suit man said, “You've raised a number of concerns and you’re asking very intolerant questions. You're behaving outside of the norm and we think that you need to go and see a psychiatrist.”
The guy sputtered, “A psychiatrist? You do know that I am a psychologist?”
“Not the same thing,” suit woman said sarcastically, “You’re not a real doctor.”
Suit man leaned over the coffee table, “You, your wife, and your dog need to report to the hospital tomorrow at eleven in the evening.”
“What?!” the guy was inflamed. “We never agreed to go and see a psychiatrist.”
Suit man came around the coffee table, “We're not asking you.”
4:56 post meridiem
I made a quick call to Peepaw and told him what happened. He said, “That's bad Bippy, real bad.”
Day 37: Peepaw and the Tractor
8:21 ante meridiem
The guy and the girl pondered what to do into the wee hours of the morning. Their low murmuring woke me up several times, so me and Jody went downstairs to sleep on the couch.
9:45 ante meridiem
The guy tried to call the legal aid office at the university. Since no one picked up, he sent an email instead.
10:22 ante meridiem
The girl has been online all morning researching constitutional rights. She was confident that they could refuse to see the psychiatrist.
12:10 post meridiem
No one was in the mood for cow brains of any sort, so the girl made a tangy cauliflower, apple, and fennel salad. Interestingly enough, the cauliflower florets looked like tiny little brains.
9:45 post meridiem
Gail Svensen made another top secret visit. From the smell out back, I think something scared him as he made his way to my yard. “Get out of town, eh. The word going around is that they’re going to turn you into peanut heads tonight!”
Before I could screech from fright, I heard a low rumbl
ing in the distance. I looked up – it was a clear moonlit night. The air was still and humid, but there were no signs of rain clouds anywhere.
The rumbling got louder and it sounded so odd and out of place that Gail and I stopped our conversation and walked up front to see what the noise was all about.
I made out an old farm tractor coming down the road. The curious sight surely had my attention. We watched as the tractor, topped out at about 15 mph, made its way towards us. Under the moonlight, I saw Peepaw in the driver's seat.
Peepaw! What was he doing in town and riding a tractor of all things? I barked a few times to get the guy’s and girl's attention.
They both stepped out onto the front porch by the time Peepaw pulled the tractor in the driveway and shut the engine off.
“Peepaw,” the guy shouted, running down the stairs to help the old man off. Peepaw looked stiff so it was a good thing that he had some help. The girl held the front door open as the guy guided the man inside. Gail had already snuck off into the shadows so I followed everyone in.
The guy was exasperated, “Peepaw, don't tell me you rode that tractor all the way into town!”
The girl piped in, “You could have hurt yourself Peepaw. Imagine what would have happened if you had fallen off.”
Peepaw was having none of their lectures. “No time for all that nonsense. We gotta leave town tonight!”
The guy gave him his best psychologist look. “Where's Hilda and why did she let you get on your tractor?”
“I had to sneak out of there.”
“What? Don't be ridiculous,” the guy said in the same voice he used on me when I refused to take my pill. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”
Don't do it Peepaw. Don't let them give you a pill.
Peepaw's voice rose, “We have to leave now, before your brain liquefaction appointment tonight. You can’t go to that appointment.”