Flinging Moles

I am not a fan of dead, soggy animals. I love swimming all summer long in my own backyard, but dead critters are a definite drawback.

Yesterday I came home and moaned when I saw a mole floating, dead, in the shallow end. I put the net on the longest pole money can buy and held it from the very tip top. I cannot stress how important it is that I do not come in contact with dead moleness. I got the mole into the net, and climbed onto my deck. Since my deck is much higher than my driveway, I planned on just tossing that soggy guy right from the net at the end of the very long pole, over the driveway, and into the bushes. However, at that exact moment Mike drove into the driveway and got out of the car.

Because I had no desire to hit my husband in the face with a soggy, dead mole and because I don't always think things through, I shouted, "MOLE FLINGING!! DUCK!"

It may have been the extra energy I used to shout out a warning. Or it may have been a sudden gust of wind. Whatever it was, that soggy, dead mole flew through the air as if it were a feather. It flew over Mike's head, over the bushes, over the fence, into my neighbor's backyard, and onto my neighbor's grill.

That happened.

Of course I instantly threw my body to the deck floor and army crawled into my house, leaving Mike to take the heat from the neighbor I call Hitler, because that is how nice he is. Also, he wears a Hitler mustache, which should not be allowed.

"How necessary was it," Mike asked after stomping into the house awhile later, "that you loudly proclaim that you are flinging moles just before leaving me standing alone?"

I admit, the man raises a valid point.