Elmer Fudd

Last Sunday, while working on the computer, I heard a crash, a loud bang then the pitter patter of feet coming from the basement.  As time went on, I heard rustling in the furnace vent work.   I KNEW no one had broken in the house (certainly no one small enough to be in the vent work).  Boris (the cat)was sitting on my lap, so what ever could it be?

Only one answer…..a SQUIRREL!! 

I promptly dialed hubster on his cell phone and relayed the bad news.   Of course, he was busy in the field and couldn’t  (wouldn’t) come home to save lil ole me from the big bad squirrel (which sounded like a freakin heard of elephants on the rampage, I might add!).  

Nope, he waits until sundown to come home and declare war on the critter.  (showdown at sundown! How Ironic! )

Anywho, he gathers up the gun, loads himself down with ammo (that ammunition for you city folk!) and proclaims, “If I’m not back up in an hour, call 911!”.  Uhhh huhhhhh!!  How am I gonna explain THAT one to the dispatcher?

 “Uh, sorry to bother you, but my husband is hunting squirrels in the basement and it’s been over an hour since I’ve heard him or seen him…can you send an officer please.”  Ya can pretty much guarantee THAT 911 call showing up on late night TV somewhere!

Soooo…down the steps he goes.  I hear the basement door close ..and the rustling stops.  Hmmmm….

I listen intently, trying to determine exactly where all the action is going to take place so I can stay out of that particular place in the house…when I hear a “Pop!” followed closely with a “F**K!*.

Guess he missed.

Now, about this time I’m trying to picture what is going on.  No WAY was I going down in to the basement to partake in the hunt.  Nope!   But seriously, all I could see was Elmer Fudd whispering, “I”ll get you, you wascally wabbit!”  ~L~  I almost peed my pants at that visual.   (shhhhh, don’t tell hubster, he wouldn’t appreciate that, I’m sure!)  J

Soon, there was ANOTHER loud “Pop” followed by yet another expletive (some things are better NOT repeated at this point) …and followed by ANOTHER “Pop”.    No declaration of victory ensued.   What WAS the problem?

Footsteps up the steps…kitchen door opening… hubster appearing with an exclamation, “that little co**su**er is testing my patience…he’s hiding everywhere and by the time I lay my gun down to move something, he shows up and runs somewhere else…by the time I pick up my gun, I can’t find him again.  You need to clean the basement!”  

Uhhhh….Huh???  Why is it suddenly MY problem that he can’t hit the itty bitty squirrel?  

He loads himself up with ammo…again….and goes back down for round two!!

I crack open a beer cuz this is the best entertainment I’ve had in a LONG time and I didn’t even need to leave my kitchen. 

A loud “pop” soon resounds through the house and a “GOTCHYA” follows….footsteps up the stairs and the outside door opening. 

Hubster appears in the kitchen a shortwhile later looking as proud as if he’d just bagged his first 5-point buck. 

Yep…Elmer Fudd aint got nothing over on my hubster!  J