Vacation Day 1: Beer, wasps, tennis, squirrel fodder and then more beer

The newly resurfaced tennis courts at Ferry Park don't offer much in the way of tripping hazards. Image courtesy of Del Stone Jr.

My vacations come and go so quickly I wonder where they went. THIS vacation I vow to keep track of every precious second. Hence, this “vacation diary.”

Sooo … how did Day 1 of Vacationland go?

Well, I charged out of bed at 6:30 and made a pot of coffee, knowing that nine full days between me and work awaited. What a glorious feeling. I stripped the bed of sheets and tossed them into the Basket of Moldering Death to be washed. Then I (TMI – personal) and (TMI – personal). I emptied the Basket of Moldering Death and dumped the contents into the washing machine, which almost blew a gasket due to the heavy load.

Then it was time to shower for my tennis session with Dusty. I refused to shave. Dammit, Jim, I’m on vacation. I got dressed for said tennis excursion and took the clothes out of the washer, throwing them into the dryer. I turned it on for a short time but realized I’d need to leave before they were done, so I turned off the dryer having witnessed a house on Newcastle Drive burn to the ground due to a faulty dryer switch.

I drove to Winn-Dixie in Uptown Station to drop off my plastic bags for recycling. I gazed inside. Oh my. A certain somebody was working that morning but I resisted the urge to do something stupid. I drove to the recycling van on Robinwood Drive to empty my three plastic containers and 10,000 beer bottles. A colony of wasps has taken over the recycling van. I think they’re alcoholics, because they like the glass bin and become very, VERY angry when you toss Redhook empties into the bin.

After fighting off strafing attacks from drunken wasps I drove to Ferry Park, where Dusty and I smacked the ball around. I had to mop water from the court but it dried – sort of – and besides, Dusty was playing on that side of the court so it was his broken leg, not mine. Then we hit with Stan and Jet, and we BEAT them 6-4. My net play was this side of awful. I was afraid Stan’s line drives would smack me in the nose. I got an absolutely FABULOUS blister on my masturbation hand and had to retire after one set.

I went home, changed clothes and drove to Mom’s so I could attack the yard. Now I know why Dad wanted to cut down every tree in that yard. It’s a LEAFPOCALYPSE. I better not see any squirrels within 50 yards of the birdfeeder because there were enough acorns on the ground to feed the entire Northern Hemisphere’s population of squirrels. I raked and hauled leaves the rest of the morning, chatted with Mom awhile, tried to solve the mystery of her non-functioning doorbell, then drove home with a load of biscuits and gravy.

Then it was a quick shower and a short road trip. I deposited the money Brian gave me for the Pathfinder (yes, the Pathfinder is sold … sob), then dropped by Blockbusters to rent “The Hangover.” Then I fought traffic from Blockbuster to Walmart. The parking lot at Walmart was a zoo of mouthbreathers. I don’t know why but once people enter the parking lot at Walmart their IQs drop about 70 bazillion points. The guy ahead of me driving a gi-normous el heffe penismobile truck crept along at -2 mph. I would have laid on the horn but he probably would have gotten out, beaten me to a pulp and then peed on me. I got so angry I left Walmart and went back to Winn-Dixie in Uptown Station. That place was a zoo too but at least it was a smaller zoo.

I loaded up on groceries for tomorrow. In honor of the Aints I am making red beans and rice, jambalaya (with shredded chicken and turkey sausage), and chili. I also got some chips to use up the 20,000 bottles of salsa I have scattered around the house. Oh and beer of course.

When I got back I chatted with Donny for a minute (he’s putting in wood floors next door) then cracked open a Redhook ESB to celebrate the gray, freezing afternoon of Day 1 of my vacation.

When I finish this ridiculous epistle I will go downstairs, eat the biscuits and gravy, watch “The Hangover” and probably fall asleep on the couch with ropes of drool hanging from my mouth.

I’d say it was a pretty successful first day of vacation.

About the author:

Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”

Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.

As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.

Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .

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