Let's Hope Farmer H's Rumpus Revolts

Farmer H's mouth has written another check that his rumpus can't cash. All because of his King of the World fixation. Farmer H fancies himself to be more important than anyone he encounters, and assumes they need (and want) his opinion foisted upon them.

Mrs. HM, of course, is a total angel, spending her days ministering to the downtrodden, uplifting spirits in everyone she encounters. Just so we have that clear...

Tuesday evening, I was minding my very own personal beeswax while sitting at the kitchen table with my scratchers. They were disappointing me, so I had to give them a piece of my mind. Farmer H was in his recliner, having already enjoyed his supper of a fried chicken breast and leg, and a crispy hash brown that I warmed up for him, after my hard day at the bank and running errands.

Let the record show that when I have questions for Farmer H while we are both in our respective locations, I have to holler, "Hey!" And then he will turn off the TV sound, and listen to my question that I yell to him, and then ask me twice to repeat it. This time, I was not talking to Farmer H. I did not holler to get his attention. Gunsmoke was playing at a high volume. I was disparaging my scratchers in a normal tone.

Well! You would have thought I was standing on the front porch with a bullhorn, trying to incite a riot to eject Farmer H from his recliner! Farmer H bellowed at me to shut my mouth, that I was ridiculous. As you might suspect, Mrs. HM does not react kindly to being told to shut up. Especially when she has no quarrel with Farmer H, but only her tickets. In no way was my voice loud enough to interfere with Farmer H hearing his 60-year-old Gunsmoke rerun.

"I'm an adult, and can say what I like. It has nothing to do with you."

Yet Farmer H had to continue, criticizing me for my choice of language, which again had nothing to do with him, and his deaf ears would normally not even have heard. When Farmer H's commands are not being heeded, he escalates every situation. He won't stop. He gets louder and louder, and berates me for parts of my life during college days, before I even knew he existed!

Mrs. HM will not be bullied into submission. I have no desire to speak with Farmer H until he can keep a civil tongue in his head. It is now 1:00 on Thursday, and that civil tongue has not made an appearance. I let The Pony know on Wednesday night that I did not feel very festive, and did not want to go out to eat to celebrate Mother's Day on Thursday. The Pony understood.

Farmer H and his uncivil tongue and his check-writing mouth did not. Farmer H's uncivil fingers sent a "passive-aggressive" text to The Pony about it. Farmer H will be finding his own supper for a few nights. He has been informed, lest he accuse me of trying to starve him to death.