A couple weeks ago, The Pony was reading The Exorcist. He found it on my bookshelf that came from my mom's house, my childhood bedroom. Not that I only read paperbacks with a timely movie tie-in, mind you.
This afternoon, Farmer H called The Pony to come help him with the outbuildings. You never know what he needs, but The Pony knows to jump when Farmer H commands. Off he went. I was way behind on my household duties, having returned from The Devil's Playground after 1:00, and prepping vegetables for a chuck roast. I sat down to take a break at 2:55, and saw on my program guide that the movie The Exorcist was coming on at 3:00. I sent a text to The Pony. I figured he was out in the yard by the shantytown, holding a ladder, or feeding roofing material to Farmer H. He did not reply. So I called.
"Did you get my text?"
"Do you want to run in and record it?" We can only program the DVR from the basement TV.
"No. I can't. We're up on mine and #1's property. Supposed to be getting some tin. But a man came by, and Dad is talking to him. So I can't. I didn't know he was going to TALK to someone."
"I'll go down and do it. I'll have to make two trips down there anyway, carrying my soda, and my lunch if I ever get it made."
"That's okay. I don't need it. Don't worry about it. Don't."
Well. I went down to record that movie for him anyway. When are you ever gonna get the chance to watch The Exorcist again? Not that it matters to me. I've never watched it, and have no plans to.
I looked for the remote. It wasn't on the coffee table where The Pony piles his stuff. Oh. On the arm of the couch. Where he lays his head while his muscles are busy atrophying during laptop gaming. I picked it up to record the movie. Wait a minute! Something felt funny. I turned the remote over. The battery cover was gone. Huh. And I thought The Pony was just being nice about not wanting me to go down and record the movie. He obviously had a secret.
When he returned around 3:30, I told The Pony that I was recording The Exorcist.
"So you wanted it?"
"Sure. Why not."
"You want to watch it?"
"Hey. Where is the missing part of the remote. The door. For the batteries." Silence.
"Oh. It's there."
"WHERE downstairs? Why are you stalling? Why are you being so shady?"
"Why are YOU being like THIS? It's there."
"No. I looked."
"It's right by the remote. On the couch."
"No. It was not on the arm of the couch with the remote. Did you do something weird with it?"
"No-ooo. Why would you ask that?"
"Because I'm not getting an answer. It seems like you're evading the question."
"I told you. It's on the couch."
"Somewhere. I'll go get it." Thump thump thump (seven more) thump thump thump. "See? It was right here on the cushion."
"Why did you take it off? Do we need batteries?"
"No. Sometimes I just take it off and roll the batteries together while I'm watching. THERE! I snapped it back on."
"You can't just buy one of those, you know. We tried. You have to order it from DISH. We had one that the battery door broke on. And we had to tape them in. What do you know about THAT?"
"Wasn't me. I was too little then."
Something about this story doesn't add up. I hope he wasn't practicing some power ritual!