Taxes Not Included

By now you know that no visit to Mom’s is complete without a trip to Target.  Or an encounter with Odd Boy.  But I think GeekHiker jinxed me a few days ago by mentioning that Odd Boy would one day grow up to be Odd Man.  Well, yesterday I met Odd Boy’s future, and it is odd. 

I was sitting on the front porch reading — I know, I should just go read in the back yard, right?  Wrong.  It is a mosquito-infested bog.  And besides, the hammock is broken.  If I am going to be assaulted by West Nile assassins, I want to do it in luxury.  And although the sounds of frogs, toads, and other unidentified insect-eating amphibious creatures punctuate the night air disrupting my beauty sleep as they belch the alphabet, they have had zero impact on the mosquito population.  Zero. 

But this is not about mosquitoes.  Nor is this about the time earlier this week when I stepped out onto the back porch with bare feet and the perfect pedicure to let Dingo Girl out for her evening poop patrol and kicked a big-assed toad.  It had a J. Lo.-size ass and it wasn’t happy about having my size 8 ½ foot, (perfect pedicure or not!) imprinted on it.  He belched his protest and instead of hopping away, three more J. Lo. toads jumped onto the porch to back him up.  It was an ambush!  I was trapped! 

I screamed like a city girl and jumped away from my slimy attackers, landing five perfectly pedicured toes on a giant garden slug.  I am sure that I have never before heard the sound that rose from my throat.  I think it was a shriek garbled by vomit.  And so, that is why I don’t go into the backyard anymore unless I’m wearing my combat boots.  And it’s just entirely too hot to wear those this week.

So I sit on the front porch where the breeze kisses my face, the scent from what’s left of Mom’s flowers hangs in the air, and the “curse-said” (thanks, Mrs. Chili!) crop circle taunts me.  The front porch also makes me the prime target for Odd Family across the street.  I saw Odd Man pull his 1970’s-child-molester brown-on-brown conversion van into his driveway yesterday but I did not look up from my book or wave (in the South, y’all, you wave to everyone so look at what they have reduced me to!).  It didn’t stop him from coming over to talk to me.  Now, before y’all go thinking that I’m not neighborly, let me just say that Odd Family moved in a few years after I’d already left for college so I don’t really know them except from holiday visits home and phone calls conducted in hushed whispers.

Me:  Mom, speak up, I can’t hear you.

Mom (strained whisper):  I can’t.  Odd Family just pulled in across the street and I don’t want them to know I’m home.

Me:  They can’t hear you from across the street.

Mom (frantic):  Yes, yes they can.  They’re like bats!  They hear everything!  Well, darn it!  I left the porch light on, here they come.  If you don’t hear from me again, remember, you were always my favorite.  Always!

Me:  Mom?  Mom?  Moooooooommmmmmm!!!

Odd Man can talk the ears off a mule.  Except a mule would probably have the sense to walk off and leave Odd Man with his jaws a-flappin’.  I just sit there with a polite smile stuck to my face and murderous thoughts drifting through my head.  Although I truly believe, that even from six feet under, Odd Man would continue to talk.  He would be the one dead man to tell a tale.  And then another.  And then another.  So when Odd Man saw me sitting on the porch, I knew my peaceful afternoon had come to an end.  I immediately regretted shunning the company of my web-footed companions in the back yard.  At least if the big-assed toads annoyed me badly enough, I could seek my revenge with a frying pan and a pound of butter.  Odd Man has no such redeeming qualities.  His legs are knobby and hairy and should be kept hidden under long pants. 

Odd Man walked to the edge of the road and stood there for a few seconds.  Then he walked slowly up Mom’s driveway, stopping to smell the roses, before coming to stand in front of me.  And he started talking. 

Odd Man:  You reading that book?

Me:  Yes.  I don’t have a lot of time to read for pleasure these days so I —

Odd Man:  I have to read a lot too.  With my new tax business, blah, blah, blah…yaddah, yaddah, yaddah…snooze, snooze, snooze…so that’s why I have the docking station in the van.

Me (waking up):  You have a docking station in the van?

Odd Man:  For my laptop.  For when I go visit clients.

Me:  You see tax clients in your van?

Odd Man:  Yes, I make house calls.

Me:  Wouldn’t house calls mean that you go to their house?

Odd Man:  I do.  I park out front and then they come out to the van and that way I can show them stuff on my computer.

Me:  You have a laptop.

Odd Man:  *blink* *blink*

Me:  Why don’t you just take the laptop into their house?

Odd Man:  Ohhhhhh....  Say!  Didn’t you used to have a dog?

That Odd Man, nothing gets by him.