June 2 2007

One of our members, Mike Drover by name, after spending an afternoon shooting and drinking beer with some friends was driven home by same friends and his car was parked for him in the driveway.
Mr. Drover went to bed, only to realize that he was famished and yearning for some red meat.
Walking down the stairs, he pulled a leg of lamb from the freezer and after cutting himself while trying to slice a steak from it with a chef’s knife, bandaged himself with the kitchen first aid kit and padded to the garage in his bare feet. There he retrieved a circular saw, and returning to the kitchen, proceeded to cut steaks from the leg of lamb on the Formica countertop.
It was a roughly-toothed blade, and the slippery countertop caused chunks of lamb flesh to be sprayed quite liberally on the walls, ceiling, and floor of the kitchen.
Selecting a steak, Mike heated up a frying pan, threw some in some rancid olive oil and brown, rotten garlic, and sautéed some mushrooms in some butter that had seen better days.
During the cooking process he bent his nose over the frying mushrooms and his ponytail caught fire.
No problem. He grabbed the open bottle of cabernet, and poured it over his head, putting out the flames after a few spritzs.
In a stroke of genius, he hit the steak with a little curry powder at the end of the cooking process and ate it on the counter.
It was very rare.
When through, he looked at the mess, noted that the kitchen looked like a scene from "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre", Grinned, and went to bed. "Clean it up tomorrow", he thought.
Very early the next morning, a lady friend of Mike’s , studying at Julliard, named Mary, arrived in town a day early, found the "hidden" key, and let herself into the house.
Drawn to the kitchen by the horrible smell, she froze for a moment, and then went screaming from the house, gasping for air, to call 911 and to report a murder.
Two cops arrived in a flash. One veteran and a younger fella.
The dog with them gave the sign for human blood almost immediately. The veteran called in for back up and crime scene specialists.
The young cop said, "My God! So that’s what human flesh smells like!" And went outside to violently deposit his coffee and donuts in the rose bushes.
The older cop steeled himself, followed the red bare footprints upstairs to the bedroom, and hollered out," I’ve found the body, He’s up here!"
At this juncture, Mike woke up and drowsily asked, "What the hell is going on?"
Needless to say, it took him a while to explain things.

Till next week
Helga Biermeister
Secretary