Islandhuh

=It's an Island...Huh=

Chapter 1 -- "How'd we get to BLEEPING Floriday?"
I wasn't paying attention when we hit the bump in the road at eight o'clock on a Sunday morning. That's eight o-clock Eastern Daylight Saving's Time. I was in Atlanta. I used to live in a nice place in Virginia Highlands. Actually, the old apartment was a hole and a rip off and the landlord never made repairs which was why I withheld my rent and she, that synonym for a female dog, gave me ten days notice, not thirty days, ten.

Yishai and I didn't take it lying down. Yishai manages foreclosed properties and his boss had a nice little number up in Stone Mountain he'd let him and me take over. That's where we were going, but we didn't just move out like we were a couple of no-nothings being evicted or slinking away in the night, not us. After we loaded the truck that Yishai managed to borrow, we went down to Purple Pants Liquor for a bottle of tequilla and to Kroger's for some sunrise mix. Yishai could drink his shots straight or with Sprite, but not me. I liked a good sweet drink even if the object was to get totally hammered.

Once we were ripped, we got out the claw hammers and mallots and pretended the walls were the landlord's stupid head. I saved the procelain toilet fixtures for Yishai who pounded that toilet to bits while singing his favorite rendition of Barnacle Bill the Sailor. Oh it was just like middle school and having fun on the bus.

I got all the light bulbs. That hammer really gives you good reach. I made sure to stuff the broken mixer bottles down the garbage disposal along with a whole box of rubber bands courtesy of Office Depot. Have you ever seen smoke coming out of a garbage disposal? Well, I did last night. It was great.

Come morning, Dumpling came looking for us. Dumpling is Yishai's cousin. His real name is Elyohu, but no one can pronounce it and he can't because he's a 'tard. Sorry if that's not politically correct. Dumpling is fat and pastey. The folks at his sheltered workshop say he's the best worker they ever saw. Dumpling was looking forward to the trip to Stone Mountain to help us unload.

I offered him breakfast just to be a good sport, not that I felt like eating. I had a disgusting hangover. Two naproxen did not keep my head from pounding. Dumpling and I sat in the back of the truck. We both had to sit there because the truck was a piece of --- (Use your imagination). It needed an alignment, so Yishai got stuck driving the f---er. Then the door to the back where the cargo went did not close, so I had to sit with Dumpling and keep an eye on my stuff so it wouldn't fall out.

Dumpling ended up being the eyes. Riding in an open backed truck with a hangover made me sick. I thought I would puke all over my furniture which included my huge four poster bed with the mosquito netting. I paid $845 for that bed. I got it on sale. I paid cash. When you work for a collection agency, you learn not to get in debt.

Anyway, I closed my eyes and put my head on my knees to keep from seeing out which helped hold down the nausea. I sat huddled like that from the time we came out of Virginia Highlands all the way down Ponce de Leon until we hit that bump.

Well, that stupid van bought the farm along with everything in it. I landed hard on my poor, soft, ass. Dumpling was not far away. "The van blew up! We were just in an accident!" he lisped.

Yishai grumbled and said the F word over and over again until it lost its effect. That was good though because I could see him walking and knew he was not hurt and Dumpling was OK too. I looked around and saw we were not in Atlanta or even in DeKalb County. This was jungle. The closest jungle or at least place where they had palm trees was Florida.

"Yishai, did you get F--ing lost or something?" I began.

Yishai did not asnwer. "This is f--ing Florida. We were supposed to go to Stone Mountain, but here we are in some swamp in Florida!"

"No we're not," answered Dumpling.

"Yes we are you f--ing 'tard!"

"Hey don't call my cousin a 'tard," answered Yishai.

"You do it all the time," I answered.

"Yeah, but he's my cousin so I can call him sh--t like that. Anyway, it's not Florida."

"Then where is it? It doesn't look like Ponce."

"It is...I mean it's not." Yishai squatted down as Dumpling dragged something big and shiny from the woods. It was the bumper from the truck. There was also a piece of the side of the truck, but all my furniture was gone or smashed to smithereens.

"You better have papers for that f--ing truck" I snarled at Yishai. He after all had been driving, so this mess had to be his fault. "We're going to have a s--t load of explaining to do to the State Troopers."

"What State Troopers?" asked Dumpling.

"State Police," I explained. "When there is an accident, you have to report it. Also we'll need a ride back to civilization so we can get back to Atlanta. Sorry about your breakfast, Dumpling."

"You're not sorry," Dumpling complained.

"I'll buy you something to eat when we reach civilization," I promised and I meant it. "Yishai, can you walk?" I asked. He nodded and grunted. I motioned to Dumpling to follow us. We headed up the beaten trail which was where the road should have been in the jungle that should not have been in Georgia, even though Yishai insisted this was not Florida. We were going to get somewhere and then we were going to get home.

Adina Weiss In Podunk Florida (though Yishai won't admit it)