Wordless Wednesday: Turkey Terrorists in Kona
Beware of the turkey terrorists roaming the streets in Kona this morning. Although it is does not really qualify for Wordless Wednesday because I do have words for this blog and it is not Wednesday. Reminds me of the theme song for The Monkees: Here we come, walking down the street. (Hey, sing along now.) We get the funniest looks from, everyone we meet.
I hate these guys. Not The Monkees. The turkey terrorists in Kona. There used to be 7 of them, a big gang. Nobody stops them. Don’t think we are allowed to shoot them but any other means are OK. I brought up that question at the last HOA meeting I attended, what are we gonna do about the turkey terrorists in Kona? Someone suggested a bow and arrow.
Where is Jon Snow?
Our neighbor across the street, Richard, was at the HOA meeting, too. He is in his 80’s, I think, and he’s been reading books from a house he takes care of for an off-island occupant. True story, the other day we were outside talking on trash day, because everybody drags a garbage can to the street. Richard began to describe a very lengthy and convoluted story line about a married couple who divorce, begin seeing other people and the drama that ensued.
I said to him, “This sounds like a Danielle Steel novel.”
His eyes enlarged and he gasped, “How did you KNOW?!?”
I take it he has never heard of Danielle Steel. Well, I never read any of her books but I can recognize the plot line, ha, ha, ha.
As we drove home from the HOA meeting, I pressed the issue with Richard, jokingly, to see if I could a rise out of him. Asked if he had thought of ways to murder those turkeys. Hey, those wild turkeys jump on our cars. Crap on our lawns. Scare the bejesus out of house pets. Block the street and act like they own the darned place. Plus they are mean! That guy in the center would stomp on me and bite my head if I didn’t get out of his way.
What about dental floss? I suggested. Double strength, wind it around their neck and snap it.
Richard nodded thoughtfully. That would work.
Yeah, but then we’d have a big ol’ turkey carrcas lying in the street. We’d have to break their legs to get them into a standard size 30-gallon garbage bag.
Richard didn’t blink an eye.