Quarantine Blues, Episode 2

Day something-aught-something of the CLOVIS QUARANTINE.

Got up later than usual but made up for it by not shaving. Might make this a regular part of my routine. Dr. Ratface would be happy to know I still shower, though. Changed my breakfast menu this morning: scrambled eggs. Hey, I’ve got the time.

Didn’t miss any news by being late. Dr. Grandma America had on the same neck/shoulder scarf she did yesterday. I could be wrong. Maybe I’m thinking of Pelosi or that Minnesota Congresswoman, Bradley Omar. Nice to see a young, healthy-looking Surgeon General. Somehow that’s more reassuring than the usual someone old and overweight like me.


The Prez looks tired. His color isn’t good: a paler shade of orange, except around his eyes which is so white he looks like a racoon negative. This CODIX thing is taking a toll on our leaders. Joe Biden came out of his basement, saw his shadow, and went back in. He gave a statement: “C’mon man. This is… I’m not going to say… You know, I could do fifty push-ups, try me. You’re a dog-faced liar.”


Bill Gates turned up in the news, too. Someone said he predicted this pandemic two years ago. In an interview on one of the news networks, he said, “Told ya.” Oh, so now you’re Nostradamus, Windows Boy? Thanks, Bill. Why don't you get in your fancy geek-jet and fly back to Coffee Town. We out here in the hinterlands you’re flying over don’t care.


Looking at the national map of infections, I’m thinking of moving to Montana as soon

as it thaws. There’re only two reported cases of CORVIT up there, and one of them is an Angus bull. They say he caught it from lack of social distancing. He recovered okay and medical professionals want to check out his antibodies, but so far, he’s refused to allow it. Last I heard, the medical professionals were up a tree awaiting further instructions from the CDC. It’s tough to get into Montana, though. Authorities, Kevin Costner, and other cattlemen won’t allow you in unless you agree to get branded. They have branding stations set up along both roads leading into the state and drones watching the borders. They’ll let you pick your brand. I saw a video about this on YouTube.


One of my neighbors is behaving suspiciously in her back yard. I can’t tell exactly what she’s doing because of her six-foot privacy fence and the jumping up and down is wearing me out. I got out my ladder to pretend I was fixing a gutter, but only got a partial view before my wife came out and chewed me out for being on the ladder. She, the neighbor, was digging in a wooden frame sitting above ground, about 6 x 10. I haven’t seen h

er husband in days. I was walking the dog yesterday – more like pulling him – when she suddenly appeared out of her garage. She approached zombie-like to the mandatory 6-foot social distance and asked if I wanted some tomato plants. I politely refused, trying to move on. Damn dog.


“Where’s your husband?” I asked.


She smiled strangely and said, “Oh, he’s around. Well, okay, I’ll share some of my tomatoes when they ripen.”


“Great,” I said. Bentley left claw marks on the sidewalk as I dragged him after me. You can bet, by damn, I ain’t eating any of those freaking tomatoes.


My wife got on a Let’s-Clean-Out-the-Attic bender. I wasn’t happy about the word “Let’s.” Turned up lots of strange junk: Stuffed animals from my daughter’s teen bedroom, a Civil War Era dot matrix printer, several hundred spiders, and a dead porcupine. At least, I think it was dead. It didn’t move after I bounced it off a rafter with a girlish scream. My wife said it was just a teddy bear in Oakland Raider garb, but I’m not so sure. I didn’t investigate further.


This CORNID quarantine has been a tough couple years. Still and all, I have a lot to be thankful for. For instance, there’s no baseball to watch. I’m bored enough as it is.

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©2017 by Phil Truman

Broken Arrow, Oklahoma