What the...Fork?

You remember that tv series Eerie, Indiana? A teenage boy lives in a town where, well, 'eerie' things happen. There's an episode with a mom who lives in her foreverware house. (Think tupperware but with the added bonus of making the product never age unless not sealed properly.) Or the episode where a kid gets braces and some massive headgear allowing him to overhear dog thoughts. (He was later killed by the dogs b/c he learned they were trying to take over the world. I personally think they had, themselves, been brainwashed by squirrels, but I digress.)

I am a bit convinced that my town is like that. Except it would be called Random, Oregon. Today while walking to the mail I saw a fork sticking out of a metal pipe on the side of a tavern. Who does this? I mean, granted, I often walk around the main streets of my town with a plate full of delicious grub and think 'oh, if only I had a fork to eat this with....' Apparently, some genius bypassed this problem by simply putting forks in random metal pipes throughout town.

The next random thing I saw was a whirligig. You know how in the summertime people put these sticks in their yard that spin in the wind? Well, this one was shaped like a fish. The tail was the whirligig part. And it was conveniently situated so as to nearly take out the eye of anyone between 5'4" and 5'7" using the sidewalk by the petstore. Why does a petstore have a whirligig anyway? (And has anyone considered the liability issues on this? Call my secret identity Attorney Girl but someone may want to rethink this one.)

Three blocks past the post office and down an alley I find an orange, used, cement mixer in someone's front yard filled entirely with gravel rocks. Hmm. Two blocks past that I find a clown car painted black and cleverly renamed "smart" by the auto industry. (Hey Wallstreet, Barnum and Bailey just called, they want their clown cars back.)

So let's recap. A fork. A fish whirligig. An orange cement mixer. A clown car (er, "smart" car). I know. You see it too, don't you? The makings of a really great B movie. The kind where the evil genius has initiated the final countdown to total annihilation of the planet; the plan "elegant in its sheer simplicity" (nod to The Middleman). The heroes of our show running down center street trying to save the day.

"What we REALLY need is a Turnorathromeiter."
"But we don't have the means to make it."
"You're right. If only we had a fork, a fish whirligig, and an orange cement mixer."
"Wait. I think I saw a fork sticking out of a random metal pipe on the side of Longfellows Tavern." Moments later they've assembled all they need. But how to get it back to the hero lab? Ahh. Thank goodness. A clown car parked right here, right where we need it most. After loading up the fork, the fishspinner, and the orange cement mixer, our professor jumps in the driver's seat. Everyone else has to make their own way back. This is, after all, a very tiny car. But luckily for us, this is the moment where the superhero finally discovers (with 1/2 hour left of the show) that they can 1. run faster than a speeding bullet 2. fly 3. teleport or 4. stick out their thumb and get a taxi (in which case, they are not the superhero after all, but merely conducive to furthering the plot and will probably sacrifice themselves so the superhero and true love can be together in the end). This saves the day and allows for a follow-up movie played by all new actors, exploring the superhero's angst at discovering they are, in fact, a superhero.

Something to think about while I go grab that fork. I've got a plateful of sushi.