15 July 2007

Just Call Me Heather Donahue

So, I was reading the latest post over at my friend Roast Beef's blog, and my immediate inner dialogue after reading about her post-half recovery run went something like,

"Wait, what??!?!?!?!?!??? Lying around like a slug today was bad for me?????"

"Oh crap, dude. This is not good news."

Well, okay. In truth, I did not spend the entire day lying around like a slug. I did sort of go for a hike today. Or, more aptly, a trundle. In the woods. On state property. Where I shouldn't have been. And proceeded to find a mysterious shallow grave (also on state property where it shouldn't have been, and it wasn't going anywhere soon) that upon poking with a sturdy stick decidedly contained something formerly alive. You can just tell, I discovered, right then and there, if what you are poking is formerly-animate deadness, or just a heap of clothes, for instance. And this particular piece of something formerly known as alive was wrapped in several layers of trash bag. And a blanket. Giving it somewhat the element of forethought. Or, at the very least, a certain earnestness.

So, yeah--technically, I did run today. I ran about half a mile hellbent down the trail in my birkenstocks to the cell phone in my car where I proceeded to dial 911 and opine to dispatch that I really hoped I just watch too much CSI, but there was a dead something buried in the woods and could they please send somebody, preferably two or three somebodies in big white cars, with guns and shoulders and more importantly latex gloves and a shovel? (I left out the part about if possible could they please send Gary Dourdan and Billy Petersen because I get that they're actors, not real crime scene analysts. And besides which, they work in Las Vegas.)

....which they did, post-haste, whereupon I hiked said troopers into the woods (now that I had an escort, it was all legal-like, y'see) and pointed out the Blair-Witch-esque burial mound, and they said, and I quote, ".....aw, shit, man," in pretty much unison. Cop-to-English translation: this is gonna involve some paperwork.

Long story kept from getting any longer, it did eventually turn out to be someone's illegally parked golden retriever, formerly occupied by itself, and they then had to heave it off the side of the cliff because you really can't park that thing there, but you can't give a dead dog a ticket for trespassing, now can you? And in the end I kind of feel really bad for the decedent and his former owner, because he was obviously a well-beloved dog, and someone took the time to bury it wrapped in its favourite wolf-blanket, and erected a nice little cairn to keep the scavengers away, and now it was getting heaved down the side of an escarpment in the general direction of the I-78/I-287 interchange.

But, yeah, I guess you could say I got in a little running today.

One last thing: the cop with the big head of dark hair (the one who did most of the talking and none of the digging, thus the senior officer of the two) was very, very funny when I thanked him (only mildly embarrassed, because there had been a few seconds before the last blanket was unwrapped where we all kind of looked at each other like, "Please do not let this be a six-year-old") before getting into my car and driving away as if I hadn't been trespassing on state land. We were talking about going off into the woods--which of course I did not do, having spied this mysterious shallow grave from the road with my x-ray sunglasses--and he said something to the effect that they mostly put those signs up because they didn't want kids going off into the woods, because "you know, people like to go back there and hug, and stuff."

His exact words. "They go back there to hug and stuff."

I tried really, really hard not to laugh at him for being all prim and proper, especially since he was carrying a firearm, and everything, but seriously? I about bust a gut. Because people who want to hug do not go into the woods to do it. They usually do their hugging right there out in the open. WITH EVERYONE WATCHING.

"Hug and stuff"? Good God Almighty Cheese-Whiz. I really thought I was going to have to sit a State Trooper down right there and give him The Talk.


por favor no fubar said...

Holy crap! My sister and I used to hike up to the Hollywood sign and climb into the letters, but we always made sure to bring her dogs. That way when the men in the flashy cars booped their sirens at us and asked us what the hell we were doing, we could just say we lost control of the dogs and went chasing after them!

...thank god that was not a 6-year-old. Oh god what a traumatic event that would have been for you.

.......do dogs go there to hug and stuff too?

thefirecat said...

Yeah, I've used the dog excuse.

And I suspect that all SORTS of animals go there to hug and stuff. Deer, foxes, birds, you name it. Dogs, too, probably.

PS, it took me a minute to figure out your other secret identity. The translation cracks me up.

Giggles said...

Oh my god I am howling....hug and stuff a new word for it!! Great post...you are my new favorite!


Oh and I admire your bravery standing by to see what's in the bag!!!

Deirdre said...

I've called police a time or two thinking I'd seen something that might be bad, only to find it wasn't anything at all. Felt a little silly, but relieved too.

I would definitely not call a day like this "being a slug". Got your heart rate right up there, didn't it?

Not sure if it was the "hug" or the "and stuff" that made me laugh more.

alphawoman said...

What an interesting day.

Anonymous said...

Your comment on dooce.com was freaking hysterical! Now I have to go read your blog. Thanks for the teary laugh!