If one's musical selections affect the course of the day's events, then I most certainly chose poorly this morning. Somehow, early in the a.m., it seemed like a good idea to kick the day off with Collide's 2004 electrogoth/triphop cover of the 1981 new wave Fun Boy Three song "The Lunatics (Have Taken Over the Asylum)". For those who find that life has passed them by these musical genres and moments, here's a (SFW) data dump to further your musical education.
More Trout Creek drama follows after the jump.
Frequently I find the chorus to this song racing through my mind; I'm beginning to think that it may be the Wayside theme song. (Yes, I understand the original sociopolitical context of the song, but right now I am working from a more superficial level of engagement). Shall we take a look at a few of the moments in which lunatics overtook the asylum that I call "work".
The Baroness slipped a key cog today and threw a tantrum of epic proportions that scared Hickey Boy so badly that he fled as soon as humanly possible. I have never seen him unload a delivery quite that quickly, and didn't know that it was possible to peel out in a tractor trailer parked on dirt. The tantrum was non-specific, but incredibly out of control all the same. Even Louise was scared to reenter the kitchen after experiencing that little episode.
But, as the John Hyatt song says, "Thank god the tiki bar [was] open," offering a nice place of escape. The lunacy continued onto the porch, however. Normally the porch is filled with regulars, but this afternoon it was invaded by a large group of black leather clad bikers, hanging out in the 95 degree weather on the covered portion of the porch. The disconcerting bit was that the bikers were decked out in colourful leis, drinking mango margaritas from fluted glasses garnished with flower bedecked straws. Imagine the tour guide: "And on your left, our local biker gang who pride themselves on being absolute tough guys." My kingdom for a fully functional digital camera!
This was a mere prelude - a scum on the evolutionary pond of disasters - for what was to come. 'Twas a night of revelations and confrontations on a magnitude that requires something of a flowchart, expressed in chess terms:
(White Queen) - Leaves her husband, White Pawn.
(Black Queen) - Leaves her husband, Black Pawn.
(WQ) - Hooks up with The Knight.
(BQ) - Hooks up with The Knight.
(WQ) - Becomes aware of competition for The Knight's attention.
(BQ) - Becomes aware of competition for The Knight's attention.
(WQ) - Hooks up with married man whose wife has purportedly left him.
(BQ) - Puts beeline on The Knight and successfully dominates his time.
(WQ) - Upset at having lost The Knight competition, successfully devises a plan to steal him from the Black Queen.
(BQ) - Realizes that she has been overthrown by White Queen in The Knight's attentions, devises plan for revenge.
(WQ) - Relegates The Knight to backseat and carries on with married man.
(BQ) - Seeks out and hooks up with White Pawn.
(WQ) - Discovers that married man's wife is none-too-happy about his involvement with the White Queen.
(BQ) - Tells others about involvement with White Pawn, but wants it kept secret (as if).
(WQ) - Hooks up with White Pawn on occasion.
(BQ) - Learns that White Queen is once again hooking up with White Pawn.
(WQ) - Rifles White Pawn's cellphone and discovers text message history between White Pawn and Black Queen; confronts White Pawn.
(BQ) - Tipped off by White Pawn about cellphone violation, vents her distress to one of the town busy-bodies.
(WQ) - Solicits advice from others as to course of actions since she is unhappy that Black Queen is hooking up with her White Pawn.
(BQ) - Awaits public acknowledgement by White Queen of the bombshell.
All night long the tensions build ....
The tension in the bar formed an almost visceral blanket through which few people wanted to venture, and yet, true to the soap opera addiction style, few people wanted to leave. As I was closing the kitchen, I said to Mongo, "A more suspicious person might think that you and Louise are tag-team babysitting this situation tonight." His only reply was that there would be a discussion about bringing your personal shit to work. Ahhh ... another moment in the "stay or leave" debate. "Leave" carried the day when Mongo discovered that the Black Queen had a rather suspicious flat tire on her car. I can count on hearing the details at least twenty times tomorrow.
Today was definitely one in which "the lunatics ha[d] taken over the asylum."
As I climbed into my car to go home, a voice cut through the music, coming from the front porch: "You cheap [madre malditos] need to buy me a drink!"
The local tire shop confirmed that the puncture was, indeed, suspicious, seeing as how its source was a knife.
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