It's always in the middle of the night here at the asylum. As it was often at the real "asylum" when I worked there a few years ago. Here, like there, things seem to want to "go bump in the night." And by "bump" I mean either the last pitiful heartbeat of a nicotine-oppressed pulmonary system finally giving up the ghost, or, just simply the hallucinations of a probably schizophrenic hermit-lady who's ratty ol' dog has given her that ultimate Satanic command to call 911 and tell them that The Liberals Need to Be Vanquished from the Earth by the Wrath of Our Lord, Donald Trump!
Yep, it's the ambulance here for Mary again. Oh yes, they've been out before. Probably many times, but at least once that I caught. They probably have a nickname for her. Too bad I don't.
And they always come in the middle of the night. Not only in her case, but any of the others, some who have been confirmed deaths, all have their visitations by the Grim Reaper during the Witchin' Hours.
Welcome to life in the retirement trailer park.
Here are the WYZE caps:
I actually was up playing my new game Big Ambitions, trying to make my first $100,000 which is quite grindy, but a fun kind of grindy if you know what I mean. Yes, you gamers out there feel me. The grind can be it's own reward. I heard this low rumble and I wondered what the fuck it was at this wee hour? Peeked out the door like a normal person rather than go right to the monitors to see it on security cameras like a misanthropic wuss. They were in there a while too. The position of the engine and the ambulance together with all the blaring and flashing lights (no sirens in this residential area in the middle of the night... Sebring FD isn't THAT bad!) made it so I couldn't see if they were pulling her out of there as they don't use the carport entrance (hardly anyone does) so I just went back in and back to my game. Later, I sat out on my porch lurking in the dark and I could hear Petey whimpering pitifully from inside. Dog's probably never alone so it has no idea what to do. How long will it survive? I'll keep an ear out. I got to do some yard work this weekend so it'll either bark its little head off at me as usual or be eerily silent. Hmm.
As to the fate of Mary, is she, well, you know? Fuck no. Gals like her are like my father. They keep kicking no matter what comes their way, scythe-wielding mother-fucker not withstanding. Be gone Spectre!
Oh, that reminds me... Vermont Guy's back. Been back a week or so. Too early if you ask me, he's having to deal with all of what we are, still horrible heat and humidity. I was reminded when I sat in the dark, on my porch, unseen, listening to poor ol' Petey. And VG's distinctive smoker's coughs permeated the stillness of the thick, moist darkness. Yep, he's a Marlboro Man too. I guess I'll be watchin' out, sometime soon, for his own emergency medical transport coming quietly, but brightly, to our little cray cray hood, in the middle of the night.