Pine Nuts: Saga of the night-vision glasses

McAvoy Layne
Pine Nuts

My wife, bless her beautiful heart, bought me some night-vision glasses, so now, instead of taking my walks in the afternoon and communing with the neighborhood dogs, I take my walks after dark, and commune with the raccoons.

It’s really amazing to see what’s going on out there in the night. Bats are everywhere. I caught a few and brought them home to show them off, but she only covered her eyes, and pointed to the front door. I let them go outside, but one of them chose to stay, and I didn’t see where he went, though I would soon find out …

Around 10 o’clock she went into the bath and closed the door. Well, I thought Jack the Ripper must have been hiding in wait for her, or the Grim Reaper had jumped out of the shower, for she let out a scream that reminded me of the tsunami sirens that used to scare the living daylights out of us in Hawaii.

I guess that little bat tried to make a nest in her hair because she came out of that bath like it was on fire, and dived onto the couch, pulling a blanket over her head.

About then I remembered the missing bat, put on my trusty night-vision glasses, marched into the bath, turned out the light, and wrapped the missing bat in a towel. I thought about showing the missing bat to the wife, but she was gone from the couch, and now she was the one missing.

As I let the little bat go outside, I noticed a baby raccoon was eyeing me with interest, so I walked over and picked him up in the towel. My wife had returned to the living room, and though her lipstick was smeared and her hair was asunder, I showed her the baby raccoon, and that was bad judgment on my part. She took the night-vision glasses off my face, dropped them onto the floor and stood on them with both feet.

With a sigh, and a heavy heart, I walked outside and let my little buddy go back to his family, knowing I would never see him again, nor him, me.

My wife, meanwhile, has not spoken to me. In all our years, I had never heard her swear until now. She can’t swear very well, so it’s humorous really to hear her try …

“Bats! Bleeping raccoons! I suppose a skunk and a bleeping tarantula might be next!”

Well, I’m back to taking my walks in the afternoon and communing with the neighborhood dogs, and she is back to her sweet-loving self, though if I even touch the back of her hair without her knowing I’m behind her, she will let out a war hoop that will wake General Grant and his wife in their New York tomb.

I asked her if she would get me some new night-vision glasses for Christmas, but he gave me a look that would kill a lesser man, and I changed the subject …

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