This is Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle. Sometimes, it is better to tell on yourself. I always say, let the punishment fit the crime. So if you tell on yourself, does it make the crime less awful? Or if you were, let’s say, Deputy Digby Pancake, would you wait till you were found out? I will let you decide.
If you read part one of the issues of the week on yesterday’s blog, you may have been waiting for the conclusion today. Well, some things are worth waiting for, although I am not sure this is one of them. In fact, I would have been just fine not typing this and reliving this and resmelling this. But part of my job as a Sheriff is to inform. And so you are being informed. Sit back, relax and hold on to your radios. If you haven’t ate yet today too, you may want to wait on that.
So yesterday, Digby told you about the dead battery. Digby told you about Girl Person and her flip flops and the mountain and yes, the staple. But he didn’t tell you what happened later in the day. After he choked. During our walk. And then. The next day.
You see, after Digby’s choking episode, Girl Person was feeling all smooshy with Digby. Loving on him and still trying to make sure he was ok. Although he still wasn’t feeling the best, that did not stop him from something he had been trying to do for days. He knew and I knew, that deep in the bushes by one of the campsites, a family had left there two days before. And before they left, they decided to throw hotdogs everywhere. If you like hotdogs, oh you like like hotdogs. And if you are a vegetarian like Girl Person, the thought makes you want to never eat again. But for us, it is heaven. And for Digby, the longer they had sat there, and the harder Girl Person tried to pull him away, he felt more determined to get them. Even with a staple in his mouth. And as you can imagine, the hot dogs didn’t know they should fear for their lives, so they just laid there. Until Girl Person turned her back, Digby yanked as hard as he could, Girl Person almost lost her arm, and a hot dog lost its life right in one big, squishy, old gulp.
If you know Girl Person, you know that she has a weak stomach. She still needed to look for whatever was in Digby’s mouth, and with that old hot dog breath, she just kept asking herself why. Why. Why. It had been a bad day. Well, a not so convenient one. And sometimes, you just have to cut your losses, figure at least he didn’t eat two hot dogs, and that tomorrow was another day. And it sure, sure was.
Digby seemed to get better as the night went on, but his stomach noises started. Then they stopped. So the persons thought he was ok. They had to run an errand thing, and told us that they would be back in two hours. They put on some lovely, classical music for us, gave us some treats without hot dogs or staples in them, and told us to take a nap.
Now, usually, you don’t have to tell Digby to take a nap. He just takes it without asking. And this afternoon he was feeling pretty obliged to grab one on the persons’ bed. The only place in the whole RV we weren’t allowed to jump up on. At least this week. And yet, about an hour after they left, I heard it. Above the classical music and the thoughts of me becoming a professional pianist, I heard it. Digby. He ran out of that bedroom like a hotdog with hot mustard on it.
He ran out of there like a bun without a burger. He ran out of there like he wasn’t lazy. In other words, not like Digby.
First he looked at me. Could I open the door? There was a problem. A very big problem. Now, I don’t have thumbs, and I don’t want them, so opening the door was not an option. But his stomach was not taking no for an answer. There was no choice in Digby’s eyes. He had to go. And he had to go now. No staples were gonna pull this together. He figured that the farthest place he could go, so as not to be found out, was the farthest place in the RV. Yes, you would have thought the bed. And as he started to go, he realized he had an opportunity. When they found this, it would be pretty bad. But possibly, he could save the bigger mess for somewhere else. And maybe that would not be found at all.
So it happened. I happened to look away, and then…the persons came home. They did their usual apologies and lovey dovey stuff. They said they were sorry. Oh, they would never leave us again. They took us for a walk, and Digby just wasn’t himself. He knew it was going to be bad. Real bad. He sat up on the couch to face the music. The classical music that was still on. Have I mentioned? He. Hates. Classical. Music. Y’all.
They started putting away our food and presents. Girl Person said she was going to change clothes and she went into the bedroom. Digby knew it was coming, and as the music on the radio got louder and faster and more dramatic, I felt it coming…here it came…
“Oh, no! We have a problem.”
If you know Boy Person, he doesn’t like surprises. He peeked his head around the corner, which in the RV is not very far, and he said, “whaaaaatttt?”. All Girl Person could do was point. She concluded that the sheets and the comforter were goners. She dry heaved, she wanted to run out the door, but they pulled it together and said, well, it could have been worse. Poor guy. Poor Digby. And as Digby sat on the couch looking happy with himself, I wanted to tell them right then. Run for the hills. Run back up that mountain. Let your battery die again. Yes, even wear those flip flops again and feel the pain. Because what is about to happen to you in five minutes ain’t gonna be pretty.
Girl Person started bagging up the sheets and the comforter. She changed her clothes, went to shut the closet…and….the horror. The horror of all horrors. If I could explain it one way, I would choose another to soften the blow. Because as she looked at the wall above where her pillow was, where the radio was…there on top of it did not sit a pile of gold. No. On top of that radio did not sit a pile of pancakes. Or potpourri. All you could hear for miles around was, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?”
She ran out of the bedroom laughing so hard, Boy Person tried to push past her, and she said no. He could not go in there. She told him if he went in there, he would never be the same again. She said they could never look at each other again if they had to clean that up. She said it was in their best interests to just leave the RV on that mountain and make a new life for ourselves.
But he didn’t listen. She begged him not to scar himself. She begged him to run away. But as he looked in the room, there on top of the radio was a pile of the after effects of old hotdogs in the bushes and staples and whatever else a Deputy Digby Pancake eats in two days. No one can out eat Digby.
And as Digby looked at everyone running around, and gagging and laughing and crying and freaking out, Boy Person ran in the room in a hazmat suit, took that radio off the wall, apologized to anyone who had been aired on it that day, and looked at Digby as he tried to carry it out the door without dropping it. Girl Person breathed a sigh of relief as the radio made it out, and then Boy Person wondered what would he do with it? After all, he couldn’t just throw it away…you had to recycle it. Girl Person gave up. Everyone had lost their minds in this place. Including her. Now, they had no sheets. Now, they had a very Dirty Digby sitting on the couch. Already asleep again. He had forgotten what was even going on.
I couldn’t keep up writing the arrest report. And this had been a day of days. A week of weeks. And yet, somehow, the laughing continued. But so did the cleaning. I think they are still cleaning.
You would know that there were a few lessons to be learned these days. First. Don’t leave your lights on a working on top of a mountain in flip flops. Don’t drop your chicken on the ground and then eat it with a staple on it. Also, don’t eat old hotdogs thrown in the bushes. Also, don’t ever leave your dogs listening to classical music and expect everything to be ok. When it comes down to it, even days with a destroyed radio make you wonder how your life would be different without those you love in it. Because even on the days that those ones make you work a little harder, hold your nose, or gag till you can’t gag no more, life would be no fun without them. Life is more fun however without a radio that will never be the same. Does anyone know where we can recycle that?
So the question I posed at the beginning still begs to be answered. If you tell on yourself, does it make the crime less awful? Or if you were, let’s say, Deputy Digby Pancake, would you wait till you were found out? What would you have done? Your answer will determine your punishment, but for Digby, his only punishment was that dinner was a bit late after that. And yes, he ate it.
-In other news, we are going to try and make it back to the Blue Ridge Parkway today! No storm is going to stop our path! Stay tuned for real time updates on our Facebook page!
-Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle
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