"I am guilty as sin," I say to myself, sitting on my porch steps, in full panic mode.
"How GUILTY is SIN"?, Miss Smarty Pants asks.
"That is ONE stupid question," I silently shriek - Death Row flashing through my mind.
My Mama is probably spinning in her grave!! ("yes, Smarty Pants, people with BAD daughters DO IN FACT spin in their graves")
What in the world will my son and his wife say!? They will probably NOT tell the children.
"I TOLD YOU", Miss Smarty Pants smugly inserts......like SHE knows .
"You are over- reacting!" , she continues snidely - standing way over there...
"Maybe I AM crazy," I tell myself with cautious relief, Insanity Defense leaping into my mind!
YES! I DID read that somewhere! No one can be executed if they are crazy.
"Who cares what I do with my very own property?
"I SURE don't care" .....this from Miss Smarty Pants.
"It happens to be against the law - "BIG TIME" - I silently remind the both of us.
YES! - that is it - I am crazy", I decide.
Crazy as a one-legged-loon. (This explains Smarty Pants )
"YOU may be out of YOUR mind - BUT I AM an innocent bystander....OKAY?"
"Hate to break it to you, fool - but where I go - You go." (Smarty Pants is kinda dumb)
Where are THEY? I have been waiting - since 8:20 this morning - when I BROKE THE LAW.
Well at least I have time to BREAK another law.....I console myself. Do Strait Jackets come in my size...and Blue.... or is the one size fits all crazy people kind?
"WHY do you want to break another law?" Smarty Pants asks and quickly backs down as MY looks CAN kill!
Ignoring her I continue to burn all evidence of my crime thus breaking the Concealing Evidence law and sealing my fate.
"Well, at least I KNOW that BURNING EVIDENCE will aid in my defense!"
"The being crazy as a one-legged LOON defense." I snap at Smarty Pants.
"HOW in the world do you know that?" Smarty Pants asks? (she rides the "Short Bus" to adult school daily)
"It is just like the spinning in the grave thing."
"Do you WANT to go to the "big house?" "No, of course not - you fool"...."about as much as I WANT to fry in the electric chair?!".
"YOU mean "Big Sparky"! Smarty Pants says brightly. "OH MY GOD" - Must she speak?.
It is actually "Ole Sparky", I tell her. "I Know! I Know! - like those movies -"THE GREEN YARD"!!! and DEAD MAN CRAWLING!!!, she excitely remarks.
"THE GREEN MILE"..... and......"DEAD MAN WALKING", you idiot, I think dispassionately
"I am fighting for my life here and do not have time for this!
Idly I think back to my childhood and my pet chickens.
(I also wonder if I would at least get a morphine drip BEFORE being hooked up to "Ole Sparky"? )
"You did NOT get a morphine drip, did you?" I ask my long-ago pet chickens. "Your head was just lopped off and your butt fried!"
"Did IT HURT," Smarty Pants asks curiously. "Shut the heck up"...I scream...."OF COURSE IT HURT! Don't you remember that poor headless chicken flapping around trying to find its head?"
I feel deep empathy for ALL the dead chickens in the whole world. I wonder if THEY thought about RUNNING For their lives as I am surely doing right now.
"Why don't you run?" I ask myself - wiping my suddenly teary eyes (for the chickens, you know) on my sleeve.
"GOOD LORD, I have to TAKE you too," I moan.
"WELL HELLO! Yes, you DO and PUL ZEEZ stopping smoking all those cigarettes. I DO NOT want to get cancer you know!"
"YOU KNOW WHY!!!" I scream silently into the night. "DON"T YOU REMEMBER WHAT I DID THIS MORNING?"
"Oh! Those little TAGS you are burning? Is THAT why your panties are all twisted? Which does not feel so good, by the way"....says prissy Miss Smarty Pants.
"Yeah and I wonder WHY the SHORT BUS even bothered to drop you off today, you fool"...and commence ignoring her.
My mind rewinds the events that brought me to this point of sitting on my porch in the dark of night waiting for THEM to come and throw me in "Jail."
"It is called "THE JOINT" ! , she asserts. "SHUT UP", you twit, I scream hoarsely.
I simply wanted to wash my bedclothes and pillowcases.
It was in plain sight. In black and white.
DO NOT REMOVE THIS TAG UNDER PENALTY OF LAW
I am now a TAG FREAk! No TAG will EVER be safe from me again!
Smarty Pants grins in delight and wonders aloud if there are TAGS in "THE JOINT".
Since I was a child reading cereal boxes I have been enthralled with TAGS. Then when I grew up and had my own TAGS, I was no longer enthralled.
WHO IN THE WORLD HAD THE RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT I COULD And COULD NOT Do With My Own TAGS?
"Really - I think the TAGS are innocent. It is that LAW I despise," correcting myself - the LAWBREAKER.
I know and respect why TAGS and TAG POLICE exist. Years ago, pillow and mattress manufacturers were busted for selling old used mattresses stuffed with things you would not believe or even think about.
YES, old dirty mattresses you see on street corners could have ended up in YOUR home with YOU sleeping on them - NOT KNOWING that this brand new mattress was REALLY an old peed on, torn, filthy mattress that had been re-stuffed with trash, food, poop, newspapers, literally anything...and re-covered and sold as NEW MATTRESSES.
Not only that - but pillows, for instance, that were marked as being filled with goose-down WERE often filled with dirty old regular feathers, if in fact there were feathers AT ALL, in those pillows that were marked and sold as NEW too.
THESE BAD PEOPLE caused pure misery and illness to children and adults across the globe and encouraged insect infestations in their homes.
This is a true factual account and is also when the TAG POLICE were called into action and became a recognized arm of the government.
In my frenzy to rid my house of TAGS this morning, I didn't even THINK of those admittedly good but gestapo TAG POLICE - who will be here any minute.
"You will probably pass out from smoking all those cigarettes!" asserts Miss Smarty "Dumb" Pants.
I look around and sure nuff - I am now almost knee-deep in dead cigarettes. GROSS! "Well, maybe I WILL pass out before the TAG POLICE get here", I say - looking around nervously.
I try to yoga breathe so I can think better. Smarty Pants smirks as though there is NO WAY I can think better.
"Yes", I decide. That will be the best thing. Pass out right here and I can hide in a hospital.
No! NOT the crazy-as-a-loon hospital,...THE MORPHINE DRIP hospital! You twit!
"YES, THAT'S ONE I MEAN", Smarty Pants says, smiling happily.
"Yes, THAT ONE" I echo......thinking that I am not the only FREAK in THIS pond.
"OH NO!" I moan. That will not work at all. They will call the TAG POLICE as soon as their TAGS go missing!
I now realize I will probably spend the rest of my days in "THE HOLE"....the only place NO pillows or mattresses exist.
"Well, yes," Smarty Pants says....."until they fry your butt."
"Thank you for that."...I reply. Doesn't she know that she will fry too? Where are THEY?
I just cannot believe somebody else has gone stark raving mad today and has become a TAG FREAK too!
"Someone might shoot you!" Smarty Pants notes....(does she think this situation is funny?)
"I hate her," I think to myself again.
"Yeah - today must be TAG FREAK DAY", I think wearily in a sing-song voice....."the TAG POLICE are REALLY busy." They obviously need more personnel!
I study the stars and see the Big Dipper and her baby, The Little Dipper, and enjoy the cool night air on my sweaty skin. What ever happens I just KNOW that I will never see the night again just like this in my very own home.
"You are SO dramatic!!!!" Smarty Pants says sarcastically. "YOU are coming too, you fool." (can you believe this nut case?)
I think longingly of my cool bathtub with its pretty little silver feet.
Suddenly I want to take an Epsom Salt bath RIGHT NOW (with a sprig of rosemary thrown in for good measure...) then brush my teeth until they squeak,...and climb into my favorite clean-smelling pajamas.
AND also for the record - I think the TAG POLICE are just plain RUDE for making me wait like this. They could at least have the decency to SHOW UP. My tax dollars are being wasted in a serious way.
I wish I could run like Forrest Gump - I just know those TAG POLICE will chase me from here to Kingdom Come.
Smarty Pants, (obviously confused) pipes up, "Where is Kingdom Come?" and "Who is Forrest Gump?"
"BOX OF CHOCOLATES"?, I suggest to her...."Morphine Drips"!, she chants insistingly.
"That fool is in la la land", I think and seriously wonder if Smarty Pants is a demented DRUG FIEND.
"Might as well stay in the comfort of my own home," I think as I lock the door and head for my bathroom.
"And don't go telling ANYBODY", I remind Smarty Pants severely. "Tell WHO WHAT? That you are a TAG FREAK and burned all of your TAGS?"
I could slap the living daylights out of her.
I snuggle in my now TAG LESS bed and pillows hugging my little stuffed bear in desperation. WHAT!? I love my little bear.
Sleepily I wonder if my little stuffed bear can come with me and also I wonder if those lazy, late, TAG POLICE will see to it my poor innocent little cat will be found a good home.
"I would have prepared for this," I think to myself. "If I had KNOWN that TODAY would be THE DAY I would become a full-blown TAG FREAK."
"Obviously TODAY will live in infamy, like D-Day",...I inform myself with closed eyes.
"Who's there?," Smarty Pants asks - jumping up like a mystified grasshopper set afire.
(her elevator really does NOT go all the way to the top)
The Moral Of This Story: Do Not Break "The Tag" Law! Miss Smarty Pants MAY end up living with YOU!
This article belongs to Venetia and is not available for copy.