#WHERE'S MY EMERGENCY CARROT CAKE SLAB-

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

If that milk carton is Mama beagle's eggnog imagine how gross it would be after being left out in the sun for a day or two

Im gagging at the thought <3

[soyforramen]

Kill Your Boyfriend

“A little girl wants revenge; a real woman moves on while karma does her dirty work for her,” Alice said primly as she set another bowl into the cabinet.

“Did you read that in Reader’s Digest?”  Gladys asked sourly and shifted the steak on her face.  A scowl be more apt, but it would only pull at the skin around her eye, and she’d had more than enough pain for the night.  

She lowered it only for Alice to swoop in and press it further against Gladys face.  This time Gladys did scowl, damn the pain.  With a smug smile, Alice returned to emptying her dishwasher (oh how far she’d come from hand washing dishes in the back of the Wyrm; and yet Gladys hadn’t moved an inch).  If it wasn’t for their shared history - intimate and professional - Gladys would have sucker punched Alice and taken the good silver on her way out.  

“Platitudes are all well and good, but I’d say now’s the time for a reminder as to why men shouldn’t hit women.”

“It’s also a good time for you to think for once,” Alice snapped.  The china dishes let out a scream as she slammed another plate onto the stack.  She reached for a large butcher’s knife and shoved it into the block.  (Eighty, ninety bucks easy for a slab of wood, Gladys thought.  Bougie wood for the bougie, upscale lifestyle Alice had been scheming her way into since kindergarten.)

“If you go after him now -“

Gladys leaned back as the steak knife in Alice’s hand came too close to her face.  She reached out and pushed Alice’s wrist down towards the kitchen island least this problem be solved by an inadvertent stabbing.

“-you're the only suspect,” Alice continued. “Keller will have you in handcuffs and behind bars -“

She held up a hand to keep Gladys quiet.  Instead of saying every dirty little thing she was thinking - about Keller, handcuffs, and Gladys’ past indiscretions with the blonde woman - she let her smirk say it all.

“-and who would look after your son?  His father in the ground, you in the pen.  He’d be in foster care in a day.”

Gladys mused on this, wondering if it was too late in life to start writing country songs.  She sucked on her teeth and winced.  One of the back ones was lose, probably courtesy of when she’d been thrown against the bathroom sink.  God damn FP and his alcoholic fits.  It was one thing for a man to hold his liquor; it was another for him to pour it out onto his wife.

The Cooper kettle screamed (robin’s egg blue, polished and shiny as if it had never been used; 45 easy from Box and Keg, with coupon).  Alice turned her attention towards it and began making the suburban equivalent of a shot of good whiskey.   Gladys would have killed for a shot of anything right now, but PTA, Home & Garden Alice frowned on fun like mixing valium and alcohol.  Serpent Alice would already have three prozac and a tequila sunrise ready for her.  

“So what would you suggest, since stabbing him through the heart is off the table,” Gladys said.  She turned the steak over and sighed at how cool the other side was.

Alice pursed her lips while she loaded the dishwasher full of pots and pans from the earlier family dinner.  The one Gladys had crashed by knocking on the backdoor, blood streaming from her face, her eyes red and clothes torn, a sleeping child cradled in her arms.  Before the in-laws could see, Alice had whisked her upstairs for a change of clothes and first aid.  Gladys didn’t know what had been said, but it wasn’t more than a few minutes before Jughead had been laid down in the crib next to Betty, and she’d been taken downstairs and seated at the island, a hearty slice of apple pie a la mode set in front of her.  

“Stay here a few days.  Let it be known you’re out of the house and you’re not going back.  Spread a few rumors about who F.P.’s been working with,” Alice said.  “Maybe pick up a night shift at Pop’s.”

Her focus was on the caked on grease that defiled her pristine life, but Gladys knew the gears were turning in her head.  Alice always was the schemer, the planner.  She’d had her entire life planned out when reality sunk in that the Smiths weren’t in the same zip code as the Cleavers, let alone the same country.  If one wanted a plan, one that wasn’t necessarily foolproof, but smart enough to fool ninety percent of the population, Alice Smith was that person.

There was one small hitch, though.

“Where am I going to stay in the meantime?  The trailer park’s out, and couch surfing with a two-year old tends to get old real quick.  Especially since most of my friends are more likely to have needles lying around than milk.”

Alice waved off her concerns. “Hal’s going on some retreat, Find Your Inner Masculine Self, or some other insecure ego trip for the next month, so the basement will be free,” Alice said.  She let the water drain out of the sink and picked up two cups of tea.  One she sat in front of Gladys; the other she took with her as she sat down at the island.  “And I could always use some help with the girls.”

It was tempting.  A stable roof over their head and three squares a day.  More than F.P. ever provided them.

“What’s the catch?”

Alice shook her head, a coy smile on her face.  “No catch.  Only …”

Gladys raised an eyebrow.  She set the steak down on the styrofoam container.  “Only?”

“You let me help make F.P. disappear.”

“There a history there I should know about?”

Alice blew on her tea and took a small sip.  Her eyes closed as she savored the flavor.  Gladys’ question hung in the air, unanswered.

xxxx

Dead tired, feet aching, Gladys punched out from her ten hour shift at Pop’s.  It hadn’t been terrible, pretending as if F.P. didn’t exist.  She’d been acting as a single mother for the last year and it was easier when she didn’t have to pick up after him as well.

It was actually quite nice. Or at least, playing house with Alice was.  While they’d both respected each others boundaries, there were plenty of times Gladys wanted to break them, and Alice didn’t make it easy.  Whether it was a rekindling of old flames, or whether it was Gladys’ own complex about people who treated her kindly, it didn’t matter in the end.  Alice was married (ten carrot ring, rose gold, priceless and worthless depending on who you asked), and disgustingly happy about it, and Gladys refused to take that from her.  

She bid Pop’s a good night and stepped out into the humid night air.  Right on time, Alice pulled up to the diner in her eyesore of a wood paneled station wagon (not even worth casing, it was so ugly).  Gladys sunk into the faux leather seats and let her eyes shut, the smell of grease and burnt coffee staying with her even after they’d crossed the railroad tracks.  Tonight, though, Alice took a left instead of a right.

Gladys cracked an eye open and watched the quaint brick work turn into tall, dark pines.  She turned to Alice whose expression never wavered.  

“Al?”

“Do you still want to go through with this?”

Gladys sat up in her chair and stared at Alice.  She didn’t need to ask what she meant.  “Seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

“Alright then.”

Alice pulled off the road just outside of Greendale, the road lit by the light of a hole-in-the-wall bar.  Rows of motorcycles lined the parking lot.  The drunks had spilled out of the double wide building and were lounging around the porch, loud enough to wake the dead.  While they waited for the party to die down, Gladys wondered how much time Alice had spent tracking his movements, how much energy she’d expended on this side project of hers.

Country rock whispered around them, punctuated with the hoots and hollers of men all too eager to spend their meager paychecks on booze and women.

“Why do you care so much?” Gladys asked.  She didn’t expect an answer.

“About him?  Or you?”

Gladys chuckled.  Of course Alice would see right through her.  She always had been able to.

“Both.  Neither.  It’s not like we parted on good terms.  And I didn’t exactly keep up with the Christmas cards.”

Alice pursed her lips, her gaze still laser focused on the horde of people, escaping their own problems.  These were the people they’d been raised with.  In other parts of the country they’d be white-trash, rednecks; here they were blue-collar workers who’d been left behind as corporations moved overseas at the behest of ever growing profits.  They’d been left to fend for themselves among the corpses of dying towns, unwilling to leave behind the lives their father’s had left them.

“There he is,” Alice said.  

She shifted the car into gear and let it idle as F.P. swayed down the ramp and greeted everyone he passed.  Gladys always said he’d be good in politics, if he wasn’t so easily swayed by a shot and an easy fix.  Five minutes later and he was at his bike.  It took him three tries to start it up, and she knew he was at least ten beers in.  He roared out of the parking lot and the station wagon quietly followed behind.

“Now what?” Gladys asked as the darkness enveloped them again.  

Alice was quiet, focused on her prey.  The dashboard light illuminated the cab, casting eerie blue shadows around them.  

“All right, surprise party it is,” Gladys said.  

Bored, she put her shoes up on the dash.  Alice swatted them down.  

“I just had it detailed.”  

Alice took a sharp breath in as the motorcycle came to a slow stop off the road.  The station wagon passed it, and Gladys turned to watch as F.P. staggered to his feet.  They turned right onto an off road, and Alice pulled over to the side.  Calmly, she turned the engine off and stepped out of the vehicle.

The gravel crunched beneath Gladys’ plain white sneakers, loaned to her from Alice’s full closet, as she followed Alice around the car to the trunk.  Gladys let out a low whistle at the sight.  Everything from a crowbar to a battery operated jump starter to an emergency blizzard kit.  Hal Cooper made sure to take care of his wife’s every on-road need.  

Alice reached in, her grey cardigan riding up as she reached for the shovel tucked neatly in the back.  Gladys took it from her and watched as Alice surveyed her options.  After a moment, she picked up a tarp and an axe, the sharp edge gleaming in the brake lights.   It lay naturally in Alice’s hands, another well worn tool in her arsenal of getting what she wanted out of life.

In the red brake lights, Alice looked like a macabre angel of vengeance.  Grey cardigan, black cigarette pants, pearl drop earrings.  She was dressed for a potluck.

It was that moment that Alice’s plan revealed itself, and Gladys couldn’t help but chuckle at its perfection.

Alice Cooper, helicopter mother of the year, had selflessly takin in a childhood friend after she’d been battered.  Caring, kind Alice, who spent two Sundays a month volunteering at the homeless shelter, trying to get her friend back on her feet.  Vicious enforcer of her HOA and PTA rules, Alice would turn in her own mother-in-law for rolling through a stop-sign, had picked up Gladys from work and driven off, presumably to take her back to the picture perfect lifestyle on Elm Street.

How on earth could anyone imagine that she’d let a dangerous person near her family, let alone aid and abet in a murder?

With a smirk reminiscent of the old Alice, the one Gladys would eagerly kill for, they stepped into the woods where F.P. was last seen.

“Let’s go kill your boyfriend.”

[roswellroamer]

Day 6. February 4, 2020. Dunedin to Owaka. 150km.

Woke up to the expected rain. While loading the bikes we chatted for a few minutes with a couple guys on Harleys who along with us secured the only covered parking spots behind the Victoria hotel. They were both Goldwing riders back in Atlanta (!) and Edmonton and were less than thrilled with the handling of their Street Glides. They hadn't been aware of the Burt Monro Rally and were wishing they had booked a week later as they were headed back north to CHC. The rain which hasn't been too bad (until today) has been pounding the south and west coasts. In fact, schools are out in this area due to localized flooding and buses not being able to navigate successfully. One event that occurred due to flooding is going to force a change in our plans. https://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=12305737

The poor folks who got stuck and hundreds are still marooned on the Milford Sound side of this washout! Imagine if you got stuck and had to be choppered out. 🚁 What would you do about your rental bike or car? Crazy. Only one road from Te Anau up to and back from Milford Sound. Doubtful the road will be reopened in six days time when we have a reservation on a boat out of that port to see glaciers and fiords. Oh well. They say a week or more until repairs will be completed. We had another short riding day slated. Tonight Elton John is performing at the Dunedin stadium and we needed to adjust our route to adapt to the reality of zero room availability in Dunedin tonight due to that concert. The Rocketman screening 🎥 was for the Elton fans flocking to Dunedin. Only a couple hours ride on tap so we took a small detour to ride around the Otago peninsula which is accessible from central Dunedin. Despite the drizzle and a few construction zones where it seems they are adding a walking/biking lane along the bay, the scenery on the peninsula was beautiful. A few sailboats were moored in various harbors and the large cruise ship docked in town was visible across the sound. We opted to grab brekkie at the Portobello cafe. I opted for a banana milkshake (good but no ice cream), bacon & egg sandwich with sausage links and topped off with a homemade carrot cake and fresh whipped cream. I even saw the milkman deliver the milk and cream as we ate there outside. The weather gave us the only break of the day during that hour into the peninsula. As we headed back to the mainland and highway 1 south, Mother Nature gradually increased her intensity with more rain. We stopped for some memorable pics of the hillsides, tree lined sheer cliffs along the road all overlooking the water or the dormant and verdant Dunedin volcano. Instead of rocks strewn about its signature comical base, this volcano is covered in sheep! The interstate-like 1 through Dunedin gives way to the usual two lane road 10 miles or less outside of town. We got gas in Milton and due to the steady rain and dropping temperatures to around 50°F we skipped the well maintained Sod cottage that sits immediately adjacent to the road south of there. As we wound down towards Balclutha we began to notice the large volume of water. Standing pools became lakes in the fields, streams were roaring and overflowing their banks and impromptu rivers founds their way through unexpected farmlands. The Clutha River was very high and from what we hear, the south road to Invercargill may be flooded and we may have to retrace our path to Balclutha to then swing westward to Invercargill in a couple days. Soaking wet, we tried to check in to the Catlins Gateway motel but were unable to raise the innkeeper. We were an hour and a half prior to check in so we rode down the street to the Catlins Cafe and both enjoyed a hearty homemade tomato soup accompanied by two large and delicious slabs of garlic bread. 😋 Our gear was dripping all over the place and it was nice to warm up the hands. Not sure why I was riding in my mesh gloves in the 49° cold rain. After lunch the innkeeper was there and was very friendly. He told us if the local sites, restaurants and what roads might be closed due to the rains. A laundry room has already been used and the heater in my apartment style unit has been on high for hours already. The bed even has a heated blanket, sweet. The laundry and blog duty has kept me from a rainy afternoon nap but I have been getting solid rest. I had to make a toast last night for being out and not asleep at 11 PM. 🍻 Just down the street is Teapotland. A Route 66 worthy place to stop. Cool. I'll get a pic when the rains diminish. I think we'll walk to the recommended Lumber Jack cafe for dinner in a bit. A number of waterfalls should be much larger than usual if we can get to them tomorrow. Also a nearby beach by the Nugget Point lighthouse has some endangered penguins which come ashore later in the afternoon. Hopefully we can see them tomorrow.

Just saw the evening news. In addition to the previously declared state of emergency in Fiordland, now Southland has also been declared in a state of emergency by NZ civil defense. 40" of rain (over one meter) in just 48 hours! Whoa. 😮