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Things That Go Bump Under The Bed
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
My oldest daughter is now afraid of basement noises.
She tearfully admitted this to me a few days ago when she raced upstairs from the basement after hearing a noise.
"I'm afraid somebody is in the house," she cried.
I assured her there wasn't, and we talked for several minutes about how there was nothing to be afraid of. She said she had watched a movie with my wife, and some bad guys were sneaking up on the heroes who were trying to solve a mystery. So she thought there was a Guy In The Basement.
"I know no one is there, because the dogs are calm," I said. "They'd go nuts if anyone was in the house."
Actually, my dogs are to home security what a tripwire and a cowbell are to Fort Knox. I'd be better off with an ill-tempered hamster.
My daughter agreed with my logic, so she didn't make me go downstairs to check for her.
This was relief, because now I was worried that someone was in the basement.
I've always been afraid of things in the dark, whether they were villains, ghosts, or monsters. When I was a boy, I was convinced that something was lurking in my closet or under my bed, and only through extreme cleverness did I avoid being eaten.
Even now that I'm a grown man and father of three, I'm certain that one day, when I finally let my guard down, this will be my end. I'll walk into a dark room without turning on the lights, and will be mercilessly attacked by every childhood monster I've ever feared.
I was six the first time I discovered monsters. I had seen the cover of a Superman comic book at a friend's house. There was a villain on the cover who looked like his face was melting, and I was convinced that he was hiding in my bedroom. I called him Eugene, because I went to school with a kid named Eugene, and he was a real jerk.
Eugene didn't venture into any other part of the house, because he was afraid of my parents. So he lurked in my room, waiting for me to slip up, so he could make me the next victim of his evil plot.
Eugene and I had an understanding. If I made it to my bed before he got me, I was safe for the night. If I discovered where he was hiding before he got me, his turn was over.
Every night, I pushed my bedroom door all the way open to see if he was behind it. Then, without stepping into the room, I carefully slid my hand along the wall and turned on the light.
It's a well-known fact that monsters are afraid of the light, and will actually dissolve under its glow. Unfortunately, I was never able to get rid of Eugene this way. He was too smart.
After I changed into my pajamas -- always in the safety of the light, of course -- I made sure the closet door was closed. They were sliding doors, and Eugene's horribly disfigured hands couldn't get a good grip to open them. So if he was in there, he was stuck until morning.
But Eugene usually hid under my bed so he could grab my ankle as I climbed in. While Eugene couldn't open closet doors, he did have a knack for grabbing onto little boys' ankles and pulling them to their doom.
However, Eugene was also cursed with short, stubby arms, and I knew how far he could reach. So every night when I got into bed, I stood at the same spot on my rug and did a standing long jump that would have earned me an Olympic medal.
Once I was safely under my covers -- magic covers that resisted pulling by any monsters -- the game was nearly over. The only problem was that my bedroom light was still on. I couldn't turn it off and climb into bed, because Eugene would get me before I took two steps. So I did what any sensible child in my predicament would do.
"M-O-O-O-O-M-M-Y-Y-Y-Y, WOULD YOU TURN MY LIGHT OFF?!"
Without ever knowing about Eugene, my mom would come to my room, kiss me good night, and turn off the light. I was finally safe. Eugene was foiled once again, and had to wait 24 hours for our next session.
This was an ongoing battle for the next several years, until I was finally too old for my mom to turn my light off for me. Then Eugene and I agreed to a truce, and moved on with our lives.
He's old now, and just hangs around my house. But he doesn't bother me anymore, unless I watch a scary movie. Then he just hassles me for old time's sake. But I've come to consider him sort of a friend.
Which is why he's going to get rid of my daughter's Guy In The Basement once and for all.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of April 2nd, 2004)
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How About "Look, We Need to Talk. . .?"
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
How badly do you have to dislike someone that the only way to dump them is with a bomb threat? I mean, it's one thing to stand someone up for a date, but it's an entirely different matter to call an airport, not once, but seven times, and say "There's a bomb in the airport."
That's what happened to a Croatian woman in Germany, who phoned a bomb threat to the Dusseldorf International Airport. She did it to get out of a vacation with her boyfriend last September.
28-year-old Marina Busbosnjac said that she didn't want to go on a vacation to Spain with her boyfriend, but she didn't know how to tell him.
She had been trying to keep her relationship a secret from her parents, and apparently being gone for several days might have given them a hint that something was up.
"I didn't know how I would be able to tell my parents about a holiday with him and I couldn't really say to him, 'Listen, my parents wouldn't approve.' I couldn't say. . . we couldn't travel," she told the Dusseldorf state court on Wednesday.
To avoid telling her parents and her boyfriend anything that might upset them, she instead phoned in seven separate bomb threats, claiming they were the work of al-Qaeda.
I don't know if the airport officials ever wondered, "Hey, there's a German-speaking woman on the phone who says she's part of a Middle East terrorist organization," but at least they took the appropriate precautions to make sure everyone was safe.
As a result, Marina's attempt at avoiding an argument shut down Germany's third busiest airport for six hours, forced the evacuation of 15,000 people, and stranded 64,000 travelers for several hours.
Let me make sure I understand this. She didn't say no when asked if she wanted to go to Spain with her secret boyfriend. She didn't lie to her parents and say she was going with a couple girlfriends. She didn't even say, "Dang it, I'm 28 years old. I'll date who I want!" Instead, she thought, "I'm going to scare the bejeezus out of tens of thousands of people, and THEN everything will be okay."
Now after receiving worldwide media attention, as well as a conviction and sentence of two years probation, I'm guessing that cat is pretty much out of the bag. But at least she didn't have to go on vacation with her boyfriend. Problem solved, right?
Wrong.
Unfortunately for Marina, although her flight was delayed by several hours, she was still able to take a romantic vacation with the man she was ashamed of. I'm sure that if she had been smarter she would have told the guy, "You know, with all these bomb threats, we should really cancel our plans." Then again, anyone who calls in seven bomb threats to avoid her boyfriend probably doesn't have a lot going on to begin with.
But if Marina was worried about being yelled at by her parents, that problem paled in comparison when she returned from her trip -- the police arrested her boyfriend after they traced the seven calls to his cell phone.
However, the boyfriend denied making the calls. And since police officers around the world take a very hopeful and optimistic view of human nature, his denials convinced them. So they looked at Marina as a suspect instead.
Now, not only do Marina's parents know about her boyfriend, but her boyfriend knows she's ashamed of him, and would rather commit a serious crime than go on a vacation with him. To add insult to injury, Marina faces a claim of 1.5 million Euros ($1.9 million) from the airport and the affected airlines.
Happily, I can say that none of my former girlfriends have ever gone to such lengths to break up with me. I was astute enough that it just took a subtle "I never want to see you again" in blood red paint on my car for me to realize that the relationship was probably nearing its end.
So I have to wonder if Marina's unnamed boyfriend has forgiven her, and whether the two are still together. And what about her parents? With any luck, they've come to accept Marina's boyfriend as a welcome member of the family. And one day, Marina can tell her grandchildren this story and have a good laugh.
But play it safe and keep the crazy woman away from the phone on their wedding day.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of April 9th, 2004)
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Spitting Is For Sissies
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
Spring is in the air, and a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love. And that's fine for young men, but when you hit your mid-30s, your fancy turns to thoughts of beer.
At least mine do. There's just something about Spring that draws me outside, like a moth to a flame. But not just any flame. A flame with a comfortable camp chair and a cold beer where I can sit and watch the kids play in the yard.
And not just any beer either. I have a few important rules about the kind of beer I drink. I don't drink beer that has the words "Lite" or "Dry" in the name. I don't drink beer that advertises on the side of a race car. And I certainly do not drink beer whose name is preceded by the phrase "Hey, Billy Ray, throw me another. . ."
I enjoy good beer, but I'm very particular about what good beer is. I go to bars and restaurants that make their own beer, I attend beer festivals, and I've even made my own beer a few times. It wasn't very good, but at least I didn't die from drinking it.
I admit it. I'm a beer snob, although I prefer the term "enthusiast." To me, beer is more than just a watery drink to be chugged at a college party. It's a noble beverage that has inspired mankind throughout the centuries.
Benjamin Franklin said, "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." Germany's Kaiser Wilhelm said, "Give me a woman who loves beer and I will conquer the world." And my literary hero, Dave Barry, once said, "Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza."
And while these are all excellent sentiments, I think in Kaiser Wilhelm's case, he should have asked for guns instead, since Germany lost World War I in 1918.
As regular readers of this column know, I've been something of a wine enthusiast for a number of years. I've written columns and given speeches about wine tasting. And I've even collected a few important bottles.
But I'll never become a oenophile (pronounced ween-o-phile, as in "That guy is such a weenie!"). A oenophile is someone who drinks, loves, and collects wine. A oenophile will think about and worry over wine to the point of compulsive obsession. But these are actually admirable traits, because I feel the same way about beer.
But there is one thing that separates beer enthusiasts from weenie -- I mean, oenophiles. If you attend a "proper" wine tasting, watch the people who fancy themselves wine experts. They'll sniff delicately from their wine glass, take a dainty little sip, and then -- horror of horrors -- spit the wine out!
They don't just spit it onto the floor. They have special wine spitting buckets -- called "spit buckets" of all things -- where these weenies can spit without fear of being smacked in the head by their mothers.
The French call it "recracher," and they do it all the time. Of course, they've never won a military battle either, and I think that's more than just a coincidence.
This is where real beer enthusiasts draw the line. We will not, under any circumstance, spit out beer, even if I made it. Spitting is for sissies and weenies. It's actually considered a grave insult to spit out beer, and some people have been savagely beaten for doing it.
Okay, that's never happened, but it's just about that serious.
I'm happy to say I've never spit out wine either, even when it tasted as bad as the beer I made.
This past week, I was listening to "Whad'Ya Know," a show on public radio, and the host talked to some guy who claimed to be a beer enthusiast. The guy sounded perfectly sane and didn't mention alien abductions or overthrowing the government, so I was more than a little upset when the guy said he goes to beer tastings and spits his beer out!
"Beer tasters don't spit out their beer! That's those wine weenies," I hollered at my radio. Unfortunately, the show is taped in Wisconsin, so I don't think the guy ever heard me. I can only hope that some more forgiving person will explain the error of the man's ways, and set him on the enlightened path to true beer appreciation.
Or at least whack him with an empty wine bottle.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of April 16th, 2004)
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It's National April Month!
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
Most people think April is one of the more boring months of the year. After all, we only get April Fool's Day, and sometimes Easter, plus it rains for 28 of the 30 days. However, most people don't realize April is filled with all kinds of holidays, festivals, and celebrations that allow us to celebrate each of April's 30 days.
April is also an entire celebratory month. For example, it's Keep America Beautiful Month AND National Garden Month, which is appropriate for the beginning of Spring. But don't get too nervous if your neighbor down the street is making her yard look nicer than yours, even though it's National Anxiety Month.
But what if you don't have a green thumb, and you lean toward the industrial arts? Never fear, because it's also National Welding Month, which means you can weld shut all the doors on your snooty green-thumbed neighbor's house.
April is National Humor Month, which is a chance for you to regale your friends and family with the latest jokes you found on the Internet. But, if you're hearing the same "how many Luddites does it take to change a light bulb" joke for the 37th time, just nod your head and go "uh-huh," because it's also Uh-Huh Month.
April is a month for food lovers. April 2nd is National Peanut Butter and Jelly Day, the 16th is National Eggs Benedict Day, and the 17th is National Cheeseball Day. It's also National Pecan Day on the 14th, Garlic Day on the 19th, National Pigs In A Blanket Day on the 24th, National Zucchini Bread Day on the 25th, and National Shrimp Scampi Day on the 29th.
April 3rd is both Tweed Day and Don't Go To Work Unless It's Fun Day. However, since the 3rd falls on a Saturday this year, most people won't be going to work anyway. But if you normally have to work on Saturday, April 4th is Tell-A-Lie Day, which means you can lie to your boss about why you didn't show up the day before. Of course, April 4th is on Sunday, so you may want to rethink the whole lying thing.
April 7th is No Housework Day, which means you can take the day off from cleaning your home, and not feel guilty. But if your friends and family start complaining that you live in a pigsty, blame somebody else, because it's Blame Somebody Else Day on April 13th. But if there's no one else to blame, make something up about giants and dragons, because it's Tell A Story Day on April 27th.
Or, if you'd rather tell your children a bedtime story, make one up about Melvin and Herbert the Happy Lab Rats, and help your kids celebrate World Laboratory Animal Day on the 23rd.
Still stuck in the 70s? Don't despair, because it's Eight-Track Tape Day on April 11th. The organizers originally wanted to have their day on April 8th, but that was taken up by the All Is Ours Day, which by a surprising coincidence is only seven days before you have to send in your tax returns, which should be called All Is Theirs Day. And in the same month, April 5th is Go For Broke Day, which is what you'll be doing in the next ten days.
And what do we celebrate on April 15th? Rubber Eraser Day! That seems appropriate, since many of us are doing our taxes at the last minute, hurriedly scribbling down figures, and erasing our mistakes. I think April 15th should also be Vow To Do This In January Next Year February At The Latest Day. The government's response to all of this? "Sorry Charlie." That's because April 6th is Sorry Charlie Day.
Speaking of food, it's National Jelly Bean Day on the 22nd, and National Pretzel Day on the 26th. The 26th is also Richter Scale Day, which if you eat everything we've celebrated this month, you'll need a Richter Scale to weigh yourself.
Are all of these celebrations starting to stress you out and make you a nervous wreck? Not only is April National Anxiety Month, it's also National Stress Awareness Day on April 16th. And to help you relax, it's Look Up At The Sky Day on April 16th, International Jugglers Day on the 18th, and Kiss-Your-Mate Day on the 28th.
And finally, April 30th is National Honesty Day, which is the day you tell me how much you loved this column. But I'm also declaring it National Lie Like A Rug To Save My Feelings Day in case you didn't like it.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of April 23rd, 2004)
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Quiet Down Back There!
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
"Hey, quiet down back there!"
"No, we're not there yet."
"I don't know, Sweetie. Probably two more hours."
"Five minutes later than the last time you asked me."
"3:20."
"We left at 3:10."
"Because we haven't seen them in a long time."
"Because they live far away."
"I don't know. Because they wanted to move there."
"Because they got jobs that are in that city, and so they had to move down there."
"Because those were the jobs they wanted."
"You'll understand when you get older."
"No, not next year."
"In about 15 years."
"Why don't you kids close your eyes and take a nap?"
"I know you're not tired. I just wanted a little peace and quiet, that's all."
"No, I'm not going to take a nap, I'm driving."
"What, Honey?"
"No, I can't see what your My Little Pony is doing."
"Because I have to keep my eyes on the road."
"That means I have to look where I'm going."
"So I can see what the other cars are doing."
"So I don't get into an accident."
"That's when someone hits another car."
"Yes, people can get hurt that way."
"Yes, they would have to go to the doctor."
"No, Honey, we won't get in an accident."
"Because I'm not going to see what your My Little Pony is doing."
"What? I AM being nice. I'm just telling her I can't look at her little pony."
"Yes, Honey, I know it's called My Little Pony."
"Because I didn't want to call it My Little Pony."
"Because I'm a grown man and I don't want to--"
"I AM being nice!"
"Quiet down back there!"
"What's wrong, Buddy? What are you fussing about?"
"Honey, don't put your little pony in his face."
"Sorry, I mean your My Little Pony."
"It doesn't matter what it's called. Just don't stick it in his face."
"Because he gets mad when you do it, that's why."
"Because he doesn't like it."
"Well, how would you like it if someone shoved a toy in your face?"
"Your little brother doesn't like it either. That's why you shouldn't do it."
"What, Sweetie?"
"3:25."
"One hour and 55 minutes."
"We're not going that slow. We're going fast enough, it's just that we have a long way to go."
"I'm not going too fast."
"No, I'm not tailgating that guy. He's going five miles under the speed limit, and I can't pass him."
"Because there's all these stupid--"
"Yes, I remember the kids are in the back seat."
"I wasn't going to say that word."
"Or that word either."
"You're the one who keeps saying them, not me."
"Quiet down back there!"
"No, Honey, Daddy wasn't going to say a bad word."
"Because I'm a logical, rational driver who maintains his emotional stability, even when other people go slow in front of me."
"It means I'm not going to say a bad word."
"What's the matter now, Buddy? Do you want a bottle?"
"I know he can't talk, Honey. I just like to talk to him."
"I don't know. Probably in a few more months."
"Could you hand him his bottle please? Thank you."
"It's 3:30 now, Sweetie."
"Yes, five minutes later than the last time you asked me."
"That's right, one hour and 50 minutes."
"If you knew that, why did you ask me?"
"How would you like a watch for an early birthday present?"
"Tell you what, if you close your eyes and take a nap, I'll wake you up when we get there."
"I know you don't want to, but I would really appreciate it."
"Because I need to concentrate on my driving, and having three kids screaming about little ponies and what time--"
"I AM being nice!"
"Why don't you close your eyes and take a nap too."
"Yes, I'll wake you when we get there."
"No, I won't tailgate anyone."
"Good night."
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of April 30th, 2004)
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