Lacquered and stoned immaculate

My parents drove up to visit last weekend so they could spend some time with us before the baby is born.

At some point on Saturday Dad and I found ourselves sitting out on the deck, talking about how cool it is to kill things with guns. The conversation changed abruptly when Dad said, “You should get some of that Thompson’s WaterSeal and treat your deck by spraying that stuff on it with your garden sprayer.”

I let the girls leave work at 2 this afternoon because it’s Good Friday and a Good enough excuse to let the troops get a head start on Easter. I left the office at 3 and hauled home to treat the deck.

I climbed up onto the roof of the deck and treated the top. I climbed down and began treating the underside of the roof with the garden sprayer filled with Thompson’s WaterSeal, also known on the street as TWS or, as I like to refer to it: The Wicked Sheeba. What goes up, must come down. If I had to guess, I’d say I inhaled a good half liquid ounce of aliphatic hydrocarbons and I became, as they say in the chat rooms, high as a mofo. I lost basic motor function. Moving the ladder required the use of all three of my arms and a lot of giggling. I had to look down at my feet while attempting to walk to make sure they would go where I wanted them and that meant I had to take a few steps sideways before moving forward.

Just about the time I had achieved a prophetic concious awareness and a completely waterproofed body I ran out of The Wicked Sheeba. So I did what any other junky would do. I drove to the Home Depot for more solvent. I quickly found another gallon of TWS and rushed to the self check out line so I could hurry home and try to finish the deck before the sun went down.

“Please wait for store associate” read the display after I scanned the gallon tin of TWS. “Is the customer old enough to purchase paints, paint thinners and solvents?” flashed on the screen next. An employee came over and began pulling out his employee badge to scan in at my self check out area. As he approached I looked at him with my Snoop Doggy Dogg eyes and I think I said, “Doooooooood… I’m totally like 21! Scan the man and let me fly away on the highway with angels on my arms and into blueberry sunsets.”

I don’t remember much after that but I found myself back at home with two one gallon varieties of The Wicked Sheeba, five packages of beef round steak, a tulip plant and a bottle of scotch.

My blueberry sunset left me with no daylight in which to finish treating the deck. Assuming the Zombie Eater doesn’t come tonight, I’ll need to finish the deck tomorrow. I think I’ll wear a mask.