Maybe Someone Should Throw Him A Surprise Pity Party

Pity the poor Pony, our gangly beast of burden, who has been majorly put-upon today. All he wants is to go to bed at 10:00, arise at 7:30, lounge in his pajamas until 10:00, and while away the day playing computer games while laying on the basement couch watching ghost-hunting/ancient civilizations/funniest home videos on TV until time to bring in the eggs.

Friday is our shopping day. He was okay with that. Got dressed, ran to and fro inside The Devil's Playground fetching items from my list, played his driving games while I checked out. Then the universe began tossing monkey-wrenches into his well-laid plans.

The #1 son had asked for insect repellant while we were dealing with The Devil. Some may say I spoil him, but I did purchase some Deep Woods Off. He has plans this evening at a friend's house to set off smoke bombs and sparklers for photography purposes. He also asked for a McDouble and fries, seeing as how McDonald's is in The Devil's backyard. The Pony agreed that he would also partake of McDonald's lunch rations. We were in line when #1 called to cancel his order. He wanted to meet us and get his repellant, rather than follow through with his original plans to leave the Mansion after we got back. I told him that was fine, but I was not pulling out of line, since The Pony was already counting on it. Three meeting places were arranged and rejected by #1. I denied the two that he proposed. The only consensus we could reach was for The Pony and I to drive right back onto The Devil's hotter-than-not-heaven blacktop parking lot and await the arrival of the self-centered one. Oh, and he WOULD be wanting that food, because he could, after all, eat it on his way.

So The Pony ate his lunch in a blazing hot black T-Hoe under the muggy sun on The Devil's lot. Still, he was probably in better shape that the frozen food cooling its crumbs under my two winter coats in the hatch of T-Hoe. Just when he thought he was back on the happy trail to summer fun, there was a glitch in the procurement of a certain 44 oz. Diet Coke, and he had to sit twice on parking lots awaiting my refill.

After we carried in and put away groceries, and The Pony carried my precious elixir to my dark basement lair, I discovered that Farmer H had commanded him to appear for work when he was done helping me. That meant he had to be shod, rather than prancing about in Adidas slides. I innocently asked him to connect my internet at the laptop in the front living room window, only to be told that his shoes were really dirty, and he shouldn't traipse back across the carpet. At which time I saw a pile of muddy crumbs beside the couch, and instructed him to clean up that mess when he got back.

Pity the poor Pony. He was commandeered to join Farmer H in Poolio after hauling shelving from BARn to creekside cabin. AND I asked him to bring down a rotten banana as my lunch dessert.

He is now computing and viewing from his scoliosis-inducing posture on the basement couch. Right back where he started from.