Voodoo Dating: Dial T for Timber
When I was thirteen…
I was entertained by my Father’s scavenger hunts featuring clues from The Legend of Sleepy Hallow, mastering Chung Li’s character in Street Fighter, falling in lust with Scarlet O’Hara via Beta tape & novel, and attempting to star in cult-created movies with my Saginaw Boys. When I was thirteen, I dated my best friend, and his Mum drove us to see Soap Dish, and he French cuffed his jeans because I thought that was the cool look.
Sure, I ‘dated’ in that ‘almost wholesome’ Mid-West teenage way sans sophisticated dinners and outings. Dating meant making our own fun over to the local tri-adventure complex Arcade/Tattoo Parlor/Florist.
Apparently, being thirteen, today in Portland, Oregon, is an entirely different situation. Being thirteen here doesn’t truly congeal (for me) without a warped snickering whilst reading Portland’s recent headlines featuring an almost Tim-Burton-on-the-chopping-block scenario.
Not that it should be at all laughable, but Portland’s been plaqued by the Chainsaw Chicken in recent months. Praise be to Allah, the culprit’s been caught, but dig this:
The Chainsaw Chicken has been terrorizing the Portland area (namely Sandy-that’s the area, not a skirt) by randomly cutting down trees and telephone poles. These incidents began in December and have been coupled with several burglaries and arson fires within the area.
Unfortunately, the name of the suspect, whom the Police believe to be the Chainsaw Chicken, hasn’t been disclosed, but I’m guessing it’s a reeeally good one. How could it not, really? The suspect’s name could be Johnny Johnnerson and it would STILL conjure up jokes about Johnny Appleseed. Or John Smith (1882!) with, ‘I met a man with a WOODEN leg named Smith.’ ‘What was the name of his other leg?’ Har-dee-har-har.
It’s horrible, yes, but also intriguing to a Girl who thought she had cornered the market on Odd Living at Thirteen. Heck, one of the worst things I ever did was hang out behind Domino’s Pizza waiting for my buyer to show up…and that was at seventeen! Clearly, the Chainsaw Chicken has some culinary skillz on me.
What’s truly bewildering is reading the 9-1-1 calls which reported ‘late-night wood cutting and locals waking up to the whirring of an electric chainsaw’. This is something that SHOULD have happened in Small Town Mid-West America, but we were all standing around waiting for our booze to show up.
I wonder if a suggestion for the Chicken to find a mate might calm his or her cutting ways (as well as lead to a stellar Monday Night Movie plot). However, I’m not gonna put all my eggs in one basket here. I’m thinkin’ someone should cash in on t-shirts, oven mitts, and maybe even an omelet recipe-Juvenile Hall style.