Monday, December 19, 2011


Devastated, depressed and depredated are just a few descriptors of how I feel right now. My emotional well being is in the hands of two wicked cynics bent on ruining this most festive time of year. Mind you, they are nothing compared to their puppet masters, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

I promised not mention “The Event” that occurred in the summer ever again, but I feel my hand has been forced.

After opening my home to Dee, offering free accommodation and congenial hospitality, as he attends college, he found it fit to repay me in a most foul manner. He who has been blessed with an athletic prowess that earned him numerous awards, tonnes of trophies, a veritable mountain made of medals and accolades all through high school and beyond, orchestrated a heinous heist.

Sure, in grade 8 I won a home-economics award for sewing my name, Bobby, in pillows. And like all other ankle biters, I was the recipient of Participaction Awards throughout my grade school career. A couple times I even received the top award with the stars across the crest. There were also sundry Cub Scout and air cadet bits and bobs along the way, but for the most part my trophy case has collected little more than dust for the last 25 years.

So imagine my dismay and disgust when I discovered my dear brother, Dee, convinced my previously innocent niece and the ever dastardly IronGirl to STEAL my Golden Whisk. Luckily my Beeton Fall Fair ribbon is in a shadow box or I’m sure that would have gone missing as well.

Adding salt too the wound, and viciously rubbing it in, is the knowledge that IronMan, Dum, stood by while the crime was being committed and did NOTHING to stop it.

My Beech Bake Off trophy is now on a tour of locations unknown and I get horrifying updates of it being found in unseemly locales and compromising positions. The latest update included a photo of it in a snow bank and a caption that reads “having a “great time in our nation’s capital”.

I guess I can only hope to pull the pieces of my baking dreams, shattered like one of my delicate crusts as it's pierced by a fork, back together and with my usual brass bound spirit, overcome this seemingly insurmountable betrayal of trust. Dee better watch it next time we are hunting lest he be mistaken for a big goose.

As an aside, if you have any spare cash lying around, I suggest you invest it in coal mining stocks. Santa is going to need a lot extra when he makes his rounds Saturday night.


Blogger Blair said...

That's just terrible! Of course, this whole trend of home pranking started with the mystery wiener. A shame that your family has been infected with the mischief bug!

12:38 PM  

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home