No movies or potato salad for me, I'd rather get lost and fall in a ditch

 

I was attending the funeral of a disabled boy named Timmy. The family was one familiar to me from my cult days, the Gervais family. 

**True story: Carey Gervais was a roommate of mine and was, in fact, the person responsible for recruiting me into the cult in the first place, with his relentless witnessing while we worked together at the fingernail factory in Westminster. He was also the only person I've ever known to be ejected from a church, cult or otherwise, for masturbating during a worship service.**

"We're going to have potato salad after the service," said Mama Gervais."Then we're going to watch Mamma Mia."

Earlier in the day, I'd been in a conflict with one of my roommates over someone leaving a bike at the house and then going AWOL for months. My other roommates were getting pissed at me for keeping the bike, thinking that I should have somehow tracked this person down and forced them to take the bike back. 

"What we have here," I said, "is a simple case of abandonment. After 90 days, possessions left in a rental are legally forfeited. Possession is 9/10ths of the law, after all." I was pretty proud of my legal knowledge, drawing from a similar situation in my cult days, in which a member had exited the cult, leaving all his stuff behind. 

"Well, I want it out of here," said Beth. "Maybe you can just take the bike for a ride and not bring it back."

"No can do," I said, my tone surly. "If I come across a free bike, I'm going to ride it, and I'll be bringing it back home with me. Bikes can live in the house as far as I'm concerned."

Beth shook her head, clearly displeased. 

Meanwhile, back at the funeral, we'd come to a break in the service. It seemed to be dragging on, so the family suggested we take a little outing up to the hills for everyone to clear their heads. We were still going to come back and finish the service and then watch Mamma Mia, but a trip to the hills seemed warranted. 

We all piled into the station wagon, and the father drove us up some winding roads to the top of a mountain. Everyone stood around admiring the view for a moment, and then Mama Gervais said it was time to get back. 

"I'm going to stay a little longer," I said. "I'll walk back and catch up to you later." 

I wasn't in a hurry to get back to the boring service, but I figured I could make it back in time to catch the movie. Mama Gervais protested a bit, but she wanted to get back to that potato salad, so they didn't press the matter. They all got back into the station wagon and left me alone with my thoughts.

The first thing I thought was that I'd forgotten the directions to get back to the house. I started following a small drainage ditch with water in it back down the hill. I knew I'd have to cross the ditch at some point, so I looked for a narrow spot and attempted to hop over to the other side.

I got a bad start, however, and landed ankle deep in water in a soft spot on the other side. The ground was mushy, and I started to sink. I somehow managed to make a backwards hop and wound up back where I started. I kept walking along the side of the ditch, and per dream protocols, the bank became unstable and slanted me towards the now deepening water. 

There were some pallets on the bank of the ditch, and I was forced to use them as stepping stones. Due to the angle of the bank and the muddy soil, it was just a matter of time before I slid off into the ditch and found myself up to my neck in water. Somehow I had the presence of mind to unholster my phone and hold it aloft while I scrambled back to the bank.

Soaked and muddy, I was now at least on the correct side of the ditch. I walked down a few streets, and failing to see any recognizable landmarks, I looked at my phone to see if GPS could bail me out. I realized that I didn't know the address of the house I was looking for, so I scrolled through a bunch of emails to try to find the one Mama Gervais had sent inviting me to the funeral.

I never did find the email, so I missed out on the movie and the potato salad. I could just hear them tsking and muttering about how disrespectful I was to flake out on the rest of the funeral. I woke up soon afterward, with the cats clawing at my bedroom door and a hole in my gut from some chronic GI issues that I've been having. 

Happy Saturday.