If you want to increase your success rate, double your failure rate.

Saturday, July 30, 2016

The Rest of the Moose Tale

Hello there,

So I see once again you have decided to subject yourself to the decidedly abhorrent ramblings of a self-diagnosed lunatic.  Well, lunatic might be a little harsh...I'll go with, madman, instead.

So last time we met I divulged all of my going on's for the months of June and July, which I'll admit, were pretty good months.  I did forget, however, to include the dossier on the moose.

You remember the moose, don't you?  Here I'll refresh your memory.  The Moose

So anyways, a guy walks into a bar and sits down next to a moose.  The moose looks him over, lights a cigarette and goes back to his single malt scotch.  The guy notices the cigarette is a Camel, no filter.
He gives the moose a questioning look on his choice of tobacco.

The moose, with beady, desperate eyes, gives out the most ear piercing bellow the man has ever heard.
Startled the man looks at the bartender.  The bartender shakes his head a bit and says to the man,"It's a moose, did you expect him to talk?"

"I wasn't sure, I've never seen a smoking moose before," the guy responds.

"Oh, he's been hooked on those things for years," he says, as he polishes another glass and hangs it on the wooden rack behind the bar.  "Ever since the old nag passed away he just sits in here and smokes, one after the other.  Never moves, never even drinks that drink...just smokes."

The man, apparently taken aback slowly exits the bar without so much as a drink or a punch line.

Were you expecting a joke?  Oh, sorry, it was more of a real tv story.  Like the ones you see on the Bravo network.

OK, I'll fill you in.

We meet the realtor or is it realtress?  She is late, we are early.  Introductions are made and we make our way up the drive to the little cottage on the lake.

As I crest the hill I check out the lake.  It is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.  pristine waters, fish jumping as a bald eagle soars overhead.  Whitetail deer prance on the distant shore and a rainbow emerges out of nowhere on the far western end of the lake.  My heart stops as I drink in the serenity of the scene.

NOT!  It's a damn swamp!  Nothing but cattails, weeds and algae covered brackish water.  What is not covered in lily pads looks like the wastewater treatment ponds in Detroit.

Lake my ass!

So I calm myself a bit and I think...well maybe it's because were in a drought.  Yeah, that must be it, a drought.  Let's just take a look at the inside.

The realtor/realtress knocks and opens the door.  A wave of smoke billows out as we step inside.
I immediately set the baby down on the floor to keep her from the noxious fumes rising through the dust mote streaked air inside.

As my eyes adjust to the stained yellow light inside the dwelling I notice a small withered looking women sitting on the couch.  She sits there neatly with her hands on her knees.  She doesn't move much except for her eyes.  Her sad, beady, desperate little black eyes.  They dart back and forth across the breadth of the small confines almost as if she is watching a very tiny tennis match.

I looked at my wife, giving her one of  "those" looks.

The realtress introduces us and I'm a bit taken aback that the little, shriveled lady with the yellow tipped fingers doesn't move.  I've looked at a lot of houses for sale and in every one of them, the owners are not present.  It was weird.

The cottage was very small at one bedroom even though the listing states two.  The second bedroom was only big enough for a futon but you couldn't open it up into a bed, that's how small it was.  Off the back of the cottage was a screened in porch.  The porch was wide enough for a small, skinny couch but you wouldn't be able to sit on it without your knees touching the screens.

The screened in porch had a door to the backyard and the wonderful views of the lake swamp.  In fact , if you opened the door and took three steps outside of it, you would be knee-deep in black ichor like mud.

We took two steps backwards into the main living area of the cottage.  I looked up at the enormous moose head that dwarfed the entire room.  His nostrils were stained yellow and the hair that made up his once great coat was coated in tar and nicotine.  I thought if I touched it my hand would stick to it like one of those hanging fly traps.

I politely thanked the lady and asked her a few questions about the water levels of the swamp.  She said it is usually full of water in the winter time.  Great, I thought to myself, I could ice fish for some mud puppies.

I turned to leave, walking by the oversize box TV that was covered in large bags of loose tobacco.  The bag had a picture of a lady happily rolling her own cigarettes while a caption rose above her head with dollar signs floating in it.  At the top of the picture, it said, "Roll Yer Own and Save".
I wasn't sure why it was spelled YER, perhaps it was another savings I don't know but I hoped she had enough money left to afford a lung transplant, if not for her, then at least for the moose.

So needless to say it was a no go situation for us.
I wondered as we drove away if that moose would ever get loose and if he did I would expect him to head for the nearest bar and most likely light one up.

So now you know the story of the moose.

On a better note, I will leave you with a short video of my most beautiful daughter on her 15th week birthday!

Cheers and happy smokes,


  1. She's too cute! Hard to believe she's that old already :)

    Wise to pass up that cottage. I think it would take years to get the smoke scent out of there.


  2. I wouldn't have gone past the main room. Smart to pass. Sounds cramped and disgusting.

  3. Okay, buddy Bushman - big question coming at you... Have you actually discusses with Ms Realtoress the "must have" and the "most definitely must not have" lists, because this might be part of the problem. Just sayin' Like I'd be adding "can't come with a smokin' moose head! LOL hahahahahahahaha cracking up over here.

    Oh well... such is the learning curve with cabin hunting. Swamps and dumps abound.

    Good luck. And, you ended on a super sweet high note - love seeing your little munchkin... she's soooooooooo adorable.

    Sending smiles to all of you, Jenny

  4. Well, that video just made my night.
    And here I thought the image of a smoking moose woulda done it.

  5. Wow, what an experience. I'm with Jenny - I feel like "I don't want to live in cancer" isn't something you have to specify to a realtress. Best of luck finding something that isn't a literal tar pit.


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