It was August 9th. I'd planned on taking the day off to spend time with my buddies. My buddies travel light, and they're fun to have around. One travels with a holster, and the other with a hip flask. My name is Cha. Cha Cha. They don't advertise for dicks in the newspaper. That was my profession. Ex-Mouser. Ex-birder. Ex-killer. I'm a private eye, says so on my door. If business was as good as my aim, I'd be on Easy Street. Instead, I've got an office on 49th Street and a nasty relationship with a string of collection agents.The humidity was high like a hippy after a dead show. Hotter than asphalt in the city, I was sleeping off a doozy of a hangover when suddenly my door swung open and in walked trouble. Brunette, as usual.
The last thing I wanted was a case, but the dame was hysterical, like dames usually are. What she need me for was unclear but the dame was persuasive. I had a hunch I'd be sorry I asked. I took her cross town to the crime scene and it became clear as smog over Las Angeles.
The perps were still there. I knew them. Four crazy broads with boobs like Pamela Anderson and attitudes like Mike Tyson. They trashed the place. The prize: oat crack. Their hunger was like piranha feeding on a goat dipped in the amazon with a paper cut. The broads had broke down the door to where the dame kept her crack and were now caught red handed. This gang had a history of petty theft and over eating but this was the first time I'd seen them escalate to violence.
Frannie, Daisy, and Gwen weren't talking. The ringleader Buella had got to them first since closing the mouths of those broads would have taken some work. I knew why I was brought in. The dame wanted answers. This was a puzzle with two pieces.
Gwen, the newest gang member broke first. Blathering on about her innocence and her attempted to stop the other three, her teeth marks on the wall proved otherwise. She may not have been smart enough to get further in the parlor than the ramp, but she did her share of damage.
My job was done here. The dame ask me in for coffee and to stay awhile. I asked for bourbon. I didn't know how long we'd have together... but who does?
Pictures available on Facebook :)
A many thanks to Bill Watterson and Hampton Fancher for quotes, inspiration and laughter.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Our little Gammas...
"Alpha children wear grey. They work much harder than we do, because they're so frightfully clever. I'm awfully glad I'm a Beta, because I don't work so hard. And then we are much better than the Gammas and Deltas. Gammas are stupid. They all wear green, and Delta children wear khaki. Oh no, I don't want to play with Delta children. And Epsilons are still worse. They're too stupid to be able to read or write. Besides they wear black, which is such a beastly color. I'm so glad I'm a Beta." Aldous Huxley
Goats are rich with personality. Ranging from sweet and loving to flat out obnoxious, the goat has mood swings and temperamental attitudes not unlike many males I know (heh heh). Wheyward now has acquired a plethora of personalities and levels of intelligence.
Having spent time amongst the moms and kids, it is surprisingly indicative of certain breeds that we can determine a level of intelligence. Queen of Wheyward has stated a fondness to the LaManchas, equating this with their personalities-they are more clever and generally more interesting, regardless of their odd and velociraptor-like look. They are the best uddered goats, producing the most milk on the farm and are generally Wheywards most easy going ladies.
The beauties on the farm are our Nubians. Gorgeous and cute with their floppy ears and sweet, loving attitudes they are like the super models of Wheyward. All looks but little substance. They are the ones that catch your eye and make visitors go "ahhhh". They are however, simply not that bright. Sweet: yes. Uber cute: yes. Good udders: no. Good milk producers: no. Not really. Fingers are crossed for some of our babies to grow up and prove us wrong about the Nubians: that they aren't just pretty little airheads.
So far what the LaMancha are producing daily per goat is over a gallon per doe .... our Nubians, only a cup.
To be fair, the LaManchas can be bullies. They have moments where their behavior can elicit the humans to swear like longshoremen. But dang, they give out milk!
Today, the main herd was let loose on pasture, the sun was shining and the temperature warm. There are two new Nubies on the farm (can't say Whey aren't trying to give them a chance, right?). Small, timid and are low girls on the goat totem, we tethered them out in a separate field to hopefully fatten up on fresh grass. Oh, little Strawberry and Speck (not their real names) took forever to relax on leash and then would barely eat-perhaps they are watching their weight-basically they worked on their tan and sunned themselves while occasionally crying out at the human nearby trying to garden in peace.
Louise, the chosen LaMancha and overall favored goat, would never cry about being separated out from the herd to eat fresh grass. She understands that while that petunia planted would be incredibly tasty, she refrains (well..after a very long discussion that while smarty pants she is, we humans are a wee smarter and a leash only so long).
Goats are rich with personality. Ranging from sweet and loving to flat out obnoxious, the goat has mood swings and temperamental attitudes not unlike many males I know (heh heh). Wheyward now has acquired a plethora of personalities and levels of intelligence.
Having spent time amongst the moms and kids, it is surprisingly indicative of certain breeds that we can determine a level of intelligence. Queen of Wheyward has stated a fondness to the LaManchas, equating this with their personalities-they are more clever and generally more interesting, regardless of their odd and velociraptor-like look. They are the best uddered goats, producing the most milk on the farm and are generally Wheywards most easy going ladies.
The beauties on the farm are our Nubians. Gorgeous and cute with their floppy ears and sweet, loving attitudes they are like the super models of Wheyward. All looks but little substance. They are the ones that catch your eye and make visitors go "ahhhh". They are however, simply not that bright. Sweet: yes. Uber cute: yes. Good udders: no. Good milk producers: no. Not really. Fingers are crossed for some of our babies to grow up and prove us wrong about the Nubians: that they aren't just pretty little airheads.
So far what the LaMancha are producing daily per goat is over a gallon per doe .... our Nubians, only a cup.
To be fair, the LaManchas can be bullies. They have moments where their behavior can elicit the humans to swear like longshoremen. But dang, they give out milk!
Today, the main herd was let loose on pasture, the sun was shining and the temperature warm. There are two new Nubies on the farm (can't say Whey aren't trying to give them a chance, right?). Small, timid and are low girls on the goat totem, we tethered them out in a separate field to hopefully fatten up on fresh grass. Oh, little Strawberry and Speck (not their real names) took forever to relax on leash and then would barely eat-perhaps they are watching their weight-basically they worked on their tan and sunned themselves while occasionally crying out at the human nearby trying to garden in peace.
Louise, the chosen LaMancha and overall favored goat, would never cry about being separated out from the herd to eat fresh grass. She understands that while that petunia planted would be incredibly tasty, she refrains (well..after a very long discussion that while smarty pants she is, we humans are a wee smarter and a leash only so long).
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