As you all know, I'm temporarily sewing from my dining room because my sewing room is undergoing some major renovations.
Tonight, in our dining room, directly in front of a BIG window where all the zombie-green, brain-sucking night creatures of the world can see me, I was cutting out a lovely green satin Satine gown for a delightful customer. As I was cutting, I heard a strange screeching noise - I assumed, emanating from the television.
"Another annoying commercial," I sighed. But then the commercial ended and the screeching continued. I turned the volume down, the screeching volume went up and the goosebumps scrambled down my spine. The noise was coming from the yard. OUR yard: Right Outside My Big, Scary, Ominous, DARK Dining Room Window.
So I scurried out to the porch, where Skye kicked it up to freak-out mode, and I was not far behind. I peered through the window screen to catch a glimpse of the Hell that is now apparently nesting in my yard, and as soon as my nose touched the screen, I threw my body backwards because I knew that Whateveritwas, would not hesitate to cram its proboscis right through that screen and suck my brains out, on-spot.
I backed up, grabbed the flashlight and turned it on. It was dead. I grabbed the backup flashlight and turned it on. It was dead. I grabbed the puny "I didn't want to see anything anyway" flashlight, turned it on - and it worked, but as soon as the beam hit the backyard, I realized that I was turning myself into a flashing beacon for the Screaming Yard Thing to hone in on and devour me. I turned the light off, locked the door, and retreated back in the house.
I called Brian, who was at welding class.
He: Hi there!
She: Yeah, you could come home any time now and save me from the Thing in the yard that is screaming and dying and bleeding up our lawn.
He: Wha??
She: Yeah, it's NOT happy and it's screaming and we - me and Skye - are totally freaked out. It's probably going to eat us, you know.
He: Alright. I'll finish up and head home. Are you sure it's not a cat?
She: YES! It's not a cat! It's too screechy and eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrreeeeeeeeekeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-rrrrrreeeeeeeeekeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrreeeeeeeeek-ish to be a cat! And you might want to buy a gun on the way home because I know it's going to be big and mean.
He: I'll be home in a few - just relax!
She: HURRY!
Alone, scared, and ready to call the fire department, police AND ambulance corps, I turned to the next group of most-helpful-people I know. The Yahoo Group of eBay Seamstresses. Because they would definitely know what to do.
I told them of the hideous screaming blood fest in my yard and they suggested maybe it was a raccoon or a cat. To which I responded:
It's too high-pitched for cats - it's a small animal, like a rabid chipmunk with sharp, pointy fangs and talons and a nasty thirst for blood.
And I explain that Brian wasn't home - that he was at welding class - and I wasn't not quite sure what to do - to which Laura responded:
Personally I'd be more afraid of the concept of my sweetie taking a welding class. ;)
But maybe that's just me. ;)
And I had to agree. Brian with a flaming red-hot welding torchy-thingy isn't really the stuff of happy-fluffy-bunny-bedtime-stories.
But, back to the screaming Creatures of Doom in my yard: The screaming continued, and I kept creeping up to check on E-Beth every 3 minutes or so, to make sure the Yardzilla hadn't broken into the second story of my home to steal my baby like an Australian dingo.
Of course, every time I peeked she was there, and getting annoyed with me constantly opening her door and poking her.
Finally, Brian pulled in and I quickly unlocked the door so he wouldn't laugh at me for locking the Screaming Lawn Monster out.
Of course, three minutes before he arrived, the screaming had stopped.
I let him hear the whole story - and he laughed AT me, not WITH me. Then, just as I finished the story with a grand finale of "and it wanted to eat me and Skye both. . . . I could sense it," the screaming started back up again, as if on cue.
Brian grabbed his welding gloves and slapped them over his hands - because apparently welding gloves have some sort of magical monster deterrent woven into the fibers. He looked terribly confident and manly - like something from Little House on the Prairie - maybe Pa goin' to slay the wombats or something.
He ventured out and within a nifty-nano-second he was rightbackinthehousequickier'n'shit, gloves off, problem solved.
"Check it out," he said, as he pulled the window closed quickly and snapped ON the craptastic flashlight.
Skunks in our yard - The Screaming Noise of Agony and Death was apparently elated (but LOUD) squeals of Absolute Joy and Heavenly Bliss.
The skunks had raided our pile of winter acorn squash (squashes, squashii(?)) and were rolling them across the lawn, playing, scampering and SQUEALING in utter delight.
nice. nice. nice. I have skunks now. In my yard. Right by my door. And they LIKE IT THERE.
I hope it's ONLY because of the squash.
They can have it all. I am not going out there to steal it back. I don't even LIKE squash.
The dog is SO grounded to the INDOORS - and until the squashskunks are gone from our yard, so am I.
Peace, till next