Wherein the Fear of God is installed in Mr. Burns.

March 15, 2008

So there I was mid tinkle and groggy when the door rattled and suddenly Mr. Burns (now the size of a fat kitten on steroids) ran between my bent legs and dangerously close to my exposed/bare naughty bits hovering above the trough. Being half asleep it took approximately 1.5 seconds for realization/panic to set in and then, (quite shamed to admit), I screamed/yelled/jumped as directionally challenged Mr. Burns scampered in circles (and across my foot 3 times) attempting to exit the 2ft./2ft squat (which is small enough to begin with and certainly not enough room for me and an over grown rat with sharp teeth and a host of disgusting diseases) the same way he entered, unable to execute the maneuver (his fatness getting in the way), Mr. Burns bumped his head against the door, and was momentarily stunned, this provided the perfect opportunity for me to kick him (it seems like a good idea at the time) however the spastic flinging of my right foot only dislodged my sandal and caused Mr. Burns to ran back between my legs (PANIC!) and into the trough, where his fatness (only his head/shoulders made it into the hole) once again prevented him from escaping the evil white goddess (namely, me, who was now hopping on one foot because I wasn’t coordinated enough to place the sandal back on.) threatening him with incoherent yells (which human ears would have translated into: BLOODYF__KINGHELLRATPIECEOFSHITNASSTYNESSIMGOINGTOKILL YOUF__KRAT!!)  

In between yelling/hopping/kicking I managed to un-hinge the door, my pants still down (which made hopping/kicking all the more funny/difficult) and at that precise moment, my host sister looked out her window, (alerted no doubt by my yells) to see me standing, looking for all the world (I like to think) like a modern day Venus rising from the depths of the squat, my hair tossed about, my arms holding the door completely open, curse words issuing forth (I’m sure my host sister never thought I would utter, or even know how to utter such choice words), and my dreadful white skin glowing against the darkness/light.  Unfortunately this non-contextualized display of yelling and lack of trousers caused my host sister to assume I had been molested by a hideous monster from the depths of hell (which is pretty damm close to what actually happened considering the proximity of Mr. Burns to my day glow white battery) which promptly caused her to collapse on the bed in a state of pure fright/shock and crying. In the 10 second from when I yelled at Mr. Burns to when I flung the door open to announce  my surprise to the entire ISM hood, my host mom (bless her heart, who I have never seen act or do anything in a manner that can be considered swift) made it from a reclining position on the divan watching a Turkish soap, out the front door, down the steps, across the path and arrived at the squat with a stick, (ready to throw down) and a look that would have stopped a raging bull and made it whimper.  What my host mom lacks in tact (she still calls me fat and lazy) she makes up for in a staunch and never failing concern for my well being and safety; when it comes down to it, you don’t mess with a mad xanim who thinks someone/thing has messed with her American (no matter how fat lazy, silly or otherwise that American (me) might be.)   

Mr. Burns flew out the squat door, and I can say with confidence he was scared sh-tless.  Seeing as the situation was bit stressful, I of course forgot all my wretched Azeri skills, but caught myself before I muttered ‘pomidor’ with only the ‘pom’ sound escaping from my lips (that’s for Donny) giving me enough time to remember the words for “BIG RAT!!!!’ which I tried to say correctly to my host mom, in-between snorting (yes, snorting) with laughter, gesturing with my left hand and trying to adjust my clothing (so as to not further scandalize myself).  I’m not sure if at that moment I was able to convey that Mr. Burns was actually inside the squat (which would offer context to my display of skin/yelling) however, my host mom, once she was convinced of my safety (my hysterical laughter helped) actually laughed, rolled her eyes, and ‘tisked’ me (to say wordlessly: “What is this crazy, incompetent, American girl doing in my house?  We were almost convinced she was an adult and then a rat?  A rat?  Seriously, baby, much worse can happen.  And you look pretty damm funny!) 

Now that the worst was over, I proceeded into the house to begin the task of calming poor host sister down, who was woefully confused by the laughter (mine much louder) of her mom and I.  There was 10 min of talking in Azeri/English/Gesturing and drinking of water and things had calmed down.  Host mom went back to Turkish Soaps, host sister laid back down, and I slinked back to my room, very embarrassed and trying (unsuccessfully) to not laugh…30 min later in an attempt to stop giggling, I tried to think of sad things and suddenly realized that I had thoughtlessly gulped the glass of dirty water host mom handed me.  This unpleasant thought was sobering enough to put a lid on the laughter and make me realize that I would quite likely be taking more than a few trips back to the squat the next day, and could in a few hours time be dreadfully sick with a water bourn disease.  And then, I just laughed even more, which means I slept very little and woke up today with a tummy ache and found a stalwart sick to be my companion, because I’m under the false illusion that a stick could possibly be a good weapon against a ROUS.


8 Responses to “Wherein the Fear of God is installed in Mr. Burns.”

  1. Brian said

    Sorry, I can’t help it… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

    You just made my day 🙂

  2. matty said

    hold on. Aren’t you the person with a proclivity for crawling around in sewers? How is a rat going to scare you? Weak. Actually, I think the funniest part is that your sister developed a heart condition from it. Oh wait, is that insensitive? Either that or thinking about you hoping around in terror with your pants around your ankles as your family looks on in shock and disgust.

  3. Patrick said

    You know, yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day…

    And I’m very sad that I wasn’t able to celebrate with you. I call dibs for next year, though. Seriously.

    Also, I need the address I can use to write / visit you with…

  4. mcmacdonald said

    wow where did you come from? long time no talk!! 🙂 yes, i’m gonna send you my address and i expect many boxes of happiness. 🙂 i think you can have next year st. pattys tho…it will cost you a 3,000 $ ticket. 🙂

  5. Kate said

    Fine, he can have it. I call St. Patrick’s Day, 2010.

  6. siologen said

    Day Glow White Battery?

    You really are a literary genius, you know that?

    Wow. Im thoroughly amazed and enlightened by your tale of such intense, bedraggled and high octane toilet antics.

    Hmm, Mr Burns sounds like hes maybe getting close to his 2 year use by date. My pet rats always get morbidly obese and rather senile just before their kick the bucket/punch the clock date.

    You are brilliant.

  7. mcmacdonald said

    ha ha, while you 2 argue about who gets St.Pattys day with the crazy irish lady, i could really use duct tape, a head lamp and running shoes.
    you guys are frickin silly n its great!

  8. Mike said

    I can’t help with duct tape or shoes, but I’m informed that a headlamp or two, some batteries, and a couple of chargers are on their way to you in the AZ. Yay online stores with “free worldwide shipping”, lol…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: