Shell Shocked: A winter to remember
Farewell, sunny Sanibel. Your resident snowbird is flying north. It’s been a wonderful winter and I’d like to recall some of my highlights.
January – I was summoned by Special Counsel Mueller to testify about my role in the Trump campaign as a private citizen. I explained to Mueller that the only collusion I was involved with was repairing my car which had been blindsided by an angry gecko. Yes, it’s true I was taunting the gecko because it didn’t land the speaking role in the Geico commercials.
When I explained this to Mueller he correctly pointed out that I had been involved in a collision, not collusion. He excused me after I politely recused myself from further interrogations and told him that I would stick to pickle ball.
February – I was sent to the Lee County Hospital emergency room after downing a hot pizza. I had begun to have seizures and heartburn when the pepperoni on top of the pizza caught fire in my stomach. I tried to quench the fire by downing a keg of beer, but flames continued to come out of my mouth. The good people at Lee County Hospital told me they had never seen such a medical emergency before.
They told me about a previous emergency when a good Samaritan paid the price for his generosity of spirit. He had tried to give his wife some golf tips on one of our local golf courses when she turned on him. She forced him to swallow a golf club. Fortunately, the club wasn’t a driver but a hybrid. The golf club began swinging at his vital organs and addressed his liver with a chip shot causing it to fly out of his mouth. My own medical emergency was a cold sore compared to a flying liver.
March – I hit a hole in one at Sanibel Island Golf Club. I had never come close to such an athletic feat before. It happened on the very first hole. I had decided to shorten the game by starting it on the green. I placed the ball about six inches from the cup, swung, and by God it went in. It was my first ever hole in one.
I also took a house guest to “Ding” Darling and somehow got lost. I spent two weeks in “Ding” Darling living off berries, leaves and gefilte fish. I wandered and wandered but couldn’t find my way out. I had my cell phone with me and dialed 911 several times. But every time I said that I needed emergency assistance because I was lost in “Ding” Darling, the phone responder would ask me if I was drunk and reminded me that falsifying an emergency could land me ten years in the Sanibel Library. When I swore up and down that I was truly lost in “Ding” Darling the responder would laugh and hang up on me.
But one day, an alligator sidled up to me and asked me if I needed a ride home. Of course, I was startled as you would be too. But he assured me that his rates were lower than Uber and he told me to hop on. And so, I finally escaped the jungles of “Ding” Darling.
April – I went to the Farmers market one Sunday morning and wound up buying a farm. It was a small farm and fit into my back yard. I was now able to grow postage stamps and began selling them to neighbors at deep discounts – until the day when six black SUVs pulled up and Post Office agents dressed as Uncle Sam surrounded my house. “Step away from your postage stamp garden and put your hands in the air.”
I didn’t know the nature of my offense. I thought anyone could grow postage stamps in freedom and civility in Sanibel. But the agents began flooding my postage stamp farm with mouth wash until the postage stamps could no longer take it. They followed the agents all the way to the Sanibel post office and I was forced to spend ten days there selling stamps and special deliveries. I vowed to never again buy anything at the Farmers market.
So, another exciting winter in Sanibel has passed where anything can happen and usually does. I am looking forward to new doses of reality next winter. In the meantime, I plan to hibernate all summer and am looking for a tree trunk to fall asleep in.