Olleh ho bruddahs and sistahs and hopelessly white people alike, So it's really quite a revelation on a number of different levels to witness a mongoose, and not a big one mind you, with jaws clamped around a large white egg scurrying with its teeny legs windmilling away to make its escape through the chicken wire and out to the egg "bone yard". There, one can see the cracked and bleached remains of would be omelets or aspiring benedict, never meant to experience the rush of hitting a hot, nonstick frypan. Pppssssssssssst. A mini greek tragic moment being played out before my eyes. I mean, all the "what ifs" rallied like some demented merry go round in my head. "That egg coulda Been somebody". But then I thought that in the end, one way or another that egg was gonna get eaten, digested and eliminated, contributing to the universal and apparently irreversible cyle turning food into dirt and dirt back into food. Burst my little existential bubble pretty darn quick there. Put a bunch of philosophical models right in their place too. You know, the ones which suggest that all the epileptics in the audience please stop fidgeting, and here's how. There's a time for calm and a time for action. Used an egg as bait, and set a couple of live catch traps. Drowned three of the little fuckers in the past four days but not before using nonlethal interrogation methods to gleen the whereabouts of the mongoose mastermind, Mergatroid chizzltooth (thats what they told us). We know where he's hole up and how to get there, but they all warned us that the place is boobytrapped like Oprahs chastity belt. Mostly army surplus claymores and rusty metal rakes with the prongs facing up. We're not sure what the mongeese use. We're working with computer models of the landscape to figure the best way in, or who amongst our limited cadre of friends we could convince to "scout" it out. We are, of course also dealing with having to cross foreign territory in a situation where time is of the essence and getting "permission" may mean sacrificing valuable and strategically critical moments. We have opened diplomatic channels with the leaders of these lands as well as a representative from the deer group, ironically named John, the pig consortium and the Partridge family. Will keep you posted as to the progress in bringing Chizzltooth to justice. Any idea how small a mongoose mouth is. Only way he could have carried it like that is if he took just enough of a bite out of the narrower end to hold it, but not break it. The egg was WAY bigger than his head. Amazing. Got a call from my pal Theodotious Latteh the other day telling me that he had spied a grunter on his property and chased it off in my direction. He asked if i'd seen it and I told him no, but that i'd be sure to burn some sulphur and puncture an effigy in his honor for sending it my way. Wellllllll, last night at about the time i get up to piss if i forgot to go before going to bed, I heard it grunting away under the Sharwil avocado tree having a merry ol' time. So I donned my hoody and tippytoed down to the living room,. snatched up my gun, turned on the flashlight strategically taped to the barrel and did my best Elmer Fudd impression. Keep in mind that my hoody was all i had on (too much info? not for Danielle). Let me interject here that you got your "oinkers" and you got your "grunters". The grunters are usually male, not necessarily bigger, but more aggressive. This was a grunter and he stayed a few steps too many ahead of me to put any bird shot in his hide, but by the time I gave up the prospect of tracking his grunts into the night, I found myself out at the pond, in the still silvery moonlight. Turned off the flashlight and tuned in the night sounds and sights and smells including the night blooming jasmine which never fails to give me a woody which then conveniently guided me, like a biological gps system around the orchard and back to my house. When I got into the house I mused, what if a heart attack had overcome me in that sweet and peaceful moment and the next day some knucklehead came driving in to find me clad in only a hoody, splayed out, flat on my back, the shiteatingest of grins on my face and "el Capitan" looking like some mushroom cloud frozen in time with nobody to contaminate. We've got atemoya, cherimoya, jaboticaba, papaya, banana, EGGS, beans, pepino dulce, greens of all kinds and a multitude of sarcastic remarks on most any subject. House of Yumm offerings include pesto, chocavopousse and froozies (plain or w/raw cacao swirls). I'd like to send o big huzzzzhuzzah to those of you who take the time to correct my spelling and comment on my shoddy writing style with all its run on sentences and nonsensical slang. I feel like i'm being loved by many mommies at once. Warm fuzzies back at ya. Might I suggest that an evolution of style itself is being birthed in these missives and that for wont of a better term we can call that style "Scream of Conciousmess", wherein only the limitations of ones perception inhibit the sublime and complete transmission and understanding of nonsense in its purest and most transparent form allowing the reader to cry "Feh, feh" and find fault, or simply give up, like that peak moment ablaze on some entheogen when the truth cannot be denied, and accept that the tree of writing has produced a chimera capable of unique expression and replete with transcendental coverage for all. Or somethin' lilke that. Read about a real sign of evolution and ultimately hope for mankind. Apparently there is an Orangutan at the Liepzig zoo that has taught himself how to whistle and has recently completed his first cd. Doesn't it just warm your heart to see signs of awakening? Does this not portend great things to come? We're naming a stalk of bananas in his honor. Soooo, as the middle aged spring feels the burn of summers approach, i wish you long cool nights and sweet dreamy siestas. Give us a call @ 8786287 and make a date to participate. The more you come, the more we'll grow. Peace, jp