Tuesday, August 15, 2006


Moron Manor

After arguing their way through Provence, Mom and Dad decided to drive the Euro-car deeper into the woods to go and visit an old friend of Dad's, who's a famous TV actor. The TV star and his wife have the most amazing house I ever saw. It's made of gigantic rocks and is perched on the edge of river. There are lots of cozy beds, a giant fireplace and the kitchen is huge.

The TV star and his wife have a very tall sheep herding bitch...she's French. She's hot. They also have a crazy, curly-haired short guy that Finley likes. He just had his balls cut off and they taped up his empty ball sack with silver electrical tape, which kind of made him walk sideways like a crab, but that didn’t stop him from humping Finley like a madman.

It’s supposed to be OK to have affairs in France. So me and Curly are bitch swapping in the Aveyron.

There were lots of Hollywood people staying at the house, and all we did for days was drive around the "Gorges du Tarn" going from one restaurant to another. We ate mountains of food…delicious, one-of-a-kind food. I never saw anything like it at the pound in San Pedro.

After meals, on the way back to the house, Mom and Dad made plenty of stops for us to fertilize vineyards and for them to look at more real estate.

Mom: (yelling) “Stop, look! That house is for sale! There’s a sign. Turn around, I want to see it.”

Dad: “I can’t turn around here. Shit! There’s a guy right on my ass! These French drivers just ride your ass. Then they try to pass you in a curve just when a truck is coming head on. God damn it! Wow! Look at that place…all stone. What a view.”

Dad slowed down and the guy behind us speeded up and passed us, screaming something at us in French about “toureeeeests de merde” and leaving us in the dust.

When the dust cleared, I could see Finn’s eyes pop out of her head, like she had just seen heaven. There it was— at the end of a long private drive of cypress trees, a red stone country house, probably full of mice. The place had hundreds of sheep. It was Finley’s dream-house—a place where she could follow her dream and chase live animals, not lame, Los Angeles squeaky toys.

I love her even though she's having an affair with Curly. I love her so much I wish I had already sold a bunch of my books and I could buy it for her.

Mom: “It’s to die for.”

For Finn, it was a place to kill.

We drove up the long driveway and a toothless farmer came out of the barn with around a dozen herding dogs the size of donkeys. They were surrounding the car and all had green foam oozing out of their mouths. Unlike their owner, they had teeth. And it looked like they wanted to make dogburger out of me.

Mom: (in French, to the toothless farmer) “I saw the sign…can we look around?”

Toothless farmer: “You’d better not get out of the car. My dogs are aggressive. But go ahead, drive around the property.”

Mom immediately rolled up all the windows. Finn and I were yelling at the outside dogs as hard as we could and trying to bite through the glass to look like we could kick their asses even though we knew it would be all over if the car door opened even for a second. We slobbered all over the windows with drool.

Dad: “Look at this place! I like this idea much better than flying back and forth to L.A. and getting our heads cut off by terrorists. We can just drive to our country house, wear turtle necks and drink wine in front of the fire, all cozy. People will visit us. Finn likes it. Let’s sell L.A.”

Mom: (to us) Shut UP! Jesus! Oh my God. This place is so fab. I like it. I wonder how much it is.”

Then the rabid sheep dogs surrounded the car and started ripping off the bumpers with their teeth! It wouldn’t be very long before they had clawed through the doors and murdered us all. I could see them making puncture holes right through the body of the car!

Dad: “Shit! We’ve got to pull outta here now.”

Then Dad sped up the car and tried to drive through them, back out of the drive.

Mom: “Oh my God! Slow down! You’re going to run them over! Don’t kill them! Oh God!”

Dad: “SHUT UP, will you? I know what I’m doing! We’ll never get out of here if I don’t speed up!”

Mom started to cry while we barked our heads off to keep up the pretense that we could put up a good fight. I showed them every single one of my teeth and threw myself at different windows to look like there were two of me.

We drove as fast as we could all the way to Nice. When we finally got home, we got out and looked at the car. It had tooth marks all over it. It had been destroyed. The tiny Euro-car looked like it had just come back from South Beirut.

Dad: “There goes the deductable! You stop and look at a house for ONE minute and it costs 300 Euros! Why can't we just live in the houses we have? ”

3 Comments:

Blogger Pisser said...

Ahahah! Did you take pictures? I want to see the damage.

I thought sheep dogs were supposed to be placid?!

10:35 AM  
Blogger Mom of Three said...

Yes, but are the dogs included in the sale price of the estate?

7:50 PM  
Anonymous Sue's Cat Ranch said...

I found your site following a link from Chihuahua Rescue's website. It's always great to find another fellow animal rescuer! We have been in animal rescue for several years now, and run our own rescue now. We focus mostly on saving cats from death row. But, on occassion I have been known to save dogs as well.

3:17 PM  

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