On UFOs, and How I Ended UP Making Dinner

Dear Mr. OR,

We have found a wonderful tool. While out looking through shops filled with clothing for Beasts or old womens' small dogs, I'm not sure which, my darling bride and I happened upon a wonderful invention. It was tucked away amongst many torture devices and plastic Beast sealing kits. It is a large plastic UFO shaped device with a hole in the top that would make it resemble a doughnut if the hole went all the way through. The top is then covered with multiple gadgets and gizmos. At first I wasn't sure what it was. So I went to ask the attendant.

The attendant, a short pleasant women of about seventeen years of age, informed us that it was a Beast containment unit. You put the Beast in the hole and the Beast will sit and try to use the gadgets and gizmos on top and in so doing will leave you blissfully alone. Why would the Beast content itself with messing with some do dads on a UFO? I can only assume that it is because they resemble some sort of device from where ever the Beast comes from. Then it hit me. The designer must have been there to find out what these devices should look like. I looked all over the box to see if I could find the designers name but alas it was not on the box. I will be writing to the company shortly.

Unwilling to let this temporary set back steal my great excitement at finding such a brilliant piece of modern workmanship I quickly agreed to purchase it and my wife and I ran home to try it out. After dismissing the Beasts temporary jailer, a family member who was all too eager to play jailer to the Beast, I began assembling our new Beast containment unit or BCU for short. The BCU was easy to put together and everything was done before I had a chance to finish a cup of coffee and both my wife and I were ready to try it out. Happily we placed the Beast in the hole at the middle of the BCU and then the doorbell rang.

I slowly walked to the door watching over my shoulder all the while to see what the Beast may unwittingly reveal as it attempted to use the gadgets on top of the BCU. But before I could get there who should burst through the door but my in laws from the red cross. The usual pleasantries were exchanged and my wife and I both showed them our brand new BCU without hesitation. How very surprised I was to see that they were not delighted but instead they pulled out a notepad and began writing something they would not let me see. Next thing I knew I was nearly drowning in questions about disease possibilities, and how had the Beast been acting of late, does it seam lethargic, is it getting proper nutrition, when was the last time I had brought it over to see them. I answered each question in turn at the end of which I was feeling rather worn out and apprehensive about what was to happen next.

Well it turns out that before a Beast uses BCU that originated from an unknown origin the Beast requires some kind of immunization shots. I attempted to explain that the Beast was just leaving and so whatever disease it may have just acquired would not have time to make it into circulation but the withering look I received made it clear that this was no excuse. Just like a kitten, dog, or any other animal the Beast is susceptible to some diseases that can easily become dangerous to humans and therefore, regardless of the Beasts time of departure, the Beast must be inoculated for the well being of the populous. And so off I went to call the vet and make the appointment.

The vet informed me that they do not work on Beasts and that I would have to make an appointment with the hospital. The hospital upon hearing what was needed set us up with an appointment which my wife kept. When I returned to my place of residence that day I found my wife looking as though she had just run twelve miles and then taken on the entire Nazi army single handedly. The deafening roar coming from across the house instantly told me all that I needed to know. And so I retired to the kitchen to prepare a meal that upon attempted consumption did very little to improve my wifes mood. Never the less, with great restraint, my wife remained pleasant and sent me to my study. Why she did this I do not know but as it is the quietest place in the house I was not unhappy about the decision and all but skipped and danced on my way there. I remain always;
Respectfully yours,

The Lumpy

On Poker and Being Handcuffed to a Couch

Dear Mr. OR,

I have begun to believe that there is a counter culture or resistance that is building against what appears to be the ever constant invasion of our homes by The Beast and its friends. Yes indeed I have lately heard of many a poker table surrounded with men just like me discussing and trading torture techniques in the hope that one of us has the answer that will send The Beasts home and return our darling brides and homes back to us. I think the psychiatrist I saw was indeed a member of this resistance.

Upon having my eyes opened to the fact that the Beast really does exist I realized as well that the Psychiatrist had made a grave error in his diagnosis of me. But now that I look back on it that seams absurd as well. I mean here is a man who has spent years diagnosing people with all sorts of mental illnesses, trained in the top schools of our time, and gainfully employed in The Lumpy's home city. Now, a man who gives bad psychological advice does not stay gainfully employed for very long. It was upon this realization that I made my discovery. Indeed when the facts don't make sense there is usually a hidden agenda involved. This Psychiatrist must be part of the resistance and was trying to help me rid myself of the Beast by giving me the means through which to do it. How? By ignoring the Beast. By making sure that the Beast does not receive attention.

I've heard that prisoners in solitary confinement sometimes go crazy. Certainly the Beast if faced with the prospect of going mad would leave through its own volition. But how to achieve this? The wife is constantly around the Beast. In fact, as I mentioned previously, I was at one time worried that the Beasts bottom had grown into my wife’s hip. I'm relieved to say that it has not. I would need to give my wife my wallet. This seams to be the only fool proof way to get my wife out of the house without the Beast following behind her. Although I shall have to be careful to make sure she leaves the Beast as the last time was a disaster.

Without pause I put my plan into action. Handing over, somewhat apprehensively, my wallet to my wife and offering to watch the Beast. This action merited me a kiss which put me in such a mood that it was several minutes after my wife had left before I remembered the real reason I had sent her away and began my work. First I would need a cell. No problem. Amongst our other torture devices my wife had me buy to prepare for the invasion were several different barred cells. I quickly assembled one. Placing the padded mat in the bottom so that should the Beast not be able to remove itself in time its madness would not result in its personal injury. After all if the red cross were to come over I would not want them to find an insane and battered Beast drooling in its cell. This would most definantly end up in the Lumpy being shipped to Holland to stand trial and frankly the Lumpy hates to travel.

My labor finished I joyfully placed the Beast in the cell, shut the door, and retired to a portion of the house as far away from the cell as I could go. There I grabbed a book. I am sorry to say; however, that the Lumpy residence is neither spacious nor is it sound proof from room to room. Almost immediately the Beast began its wailing. Scream after scream after scream. It felt as though the very house were shaking with the vibrations of the noise that the Beast were making. At several points I had to, with great courage; fortify myself from going into the other room just to make the noise stop. Just as I was handcuffing myself to the couch I noticed a change in the screams. They began to soften and there were long pauses in between. I was amazed. In all honesty I didn't expect this to work the very first time. Within the next twenty minutes the screams slowed down and finally stopped and everything was quiet.

I waited. Then I waited a little longer. Finally I decided to go and peak in the room. Carefully I opened the door and there lay the Beast. I looked a long while but couldn't make out any breathing. Rather than get the Beast to leave I had killed it. This was a mixed blessing. Indeed no Beast is a good thing but certainly my in-laws from the red cross would notice a dead Beast and as I have already mentioned I hate traveling. The only way to forego the inevitable conclusion was to bury the Beast in the back yard. So off I went to get my shovel from the garage.

I began digging in a nice shady area of the yard that I thought the Beast would like. It was in fact the very spot that the Beast had been grazing when I learned that it likes to eat grass. I had dug a fare portion of the grave when my wife returned from her shopping with my now empty wallet. She was of course very curious as to what I was doing so I informed her that the Beast had died and I was working on burying it. With a horrified panicked look my wife raced into the room containing the Beasts cell. By the time I got there my wife had managed to perform a miracle. She resurrected the Beast. How exactly this was done I am uncertain as I was setting down my shovel but I would imagine that like the resurrection of Lazarus it required prayer and the calling forth of the Beast by name.

So I am now left looking for a good game of poker. I have set up the table and am looking for other like minded men dealing with their own invasions to come and join me so that together we might be able to ascertain how to rid ourselves of our enemy combatants. I remain always;

Respectfully Yours,

The Lumpy

On Figments of the Imagination

Dear Mr. OR,

Shortly after our camping trip my wife called me into our sitting room to talk with me. The Beast was not present as it was one of the rare moments when it sleeps. A serious if not delightful conversation in sued and, to make a long story short, my wife suggested I go to see a psychiatrist. At first I was some what annoyed. Here is my wife whose mind is regularly controlled by the Beast and she is telling me that I need to seek psychiatric help. Still in the several years that we have been married I've often found that the best way to handle these situations is to go along and let her see how foolish the suggestion was as it is being followed.

So this having been said I went off to make an appointment. The psychiatrists’ office wasn't hard to get into and luckily had an appointment for the very next day during work hours. Well a couple hours out of my box in order to have my brain scrubbed sounded like a very good deal to me so I set up the appointment. The next day I sat in a small arm chair facing a tiny man in a three piece suit with a goatee and Salvador Dali-esq mustache as he scribbled onto a pad of paper nearly everything that I said. I told him all about the Beast and what I have been able to find out so far. I mentioned some of the things I was trying to find out. I even mentioned some of the techniques I have been using. When I finished speaking the man leaned forward and looked at me with a poker face that had long since been frozen into a blend of motherly caring and calm understanding. "Mr. Lumpy" he said. "You sir. Have a very serious problem. This Beast. This Beast does not exist. He only exists in your mind."

Well I was flabbergasted. The Beast only exists in my mind? But it seamed so real. Never the less this man has degrees from some of the finest schools in the country. He understands the brain. He would know if this sort of thing were going on. The rest of my appointment was spent discussing how I could become well and have this figment of my imagination removed from my life by ignoring it. It turns out that Figments of the Imagination, like imaginary friends and the like, need constant interaction in order to survive. If you ignore them they eventually fade. So off I went home; firmly convinced that my wife had been correct after all and determined to ignore the Beast no matter what it did.

When I got home my wife asked me how my appointment had gone. I told her it went fine and gave her a kiss. Then she held the Beast out for me to give it a kiss. Why she began doing this I don't know but it has been her custom for some time now and I had been complying in order to keep the peace. This time; however, I pretended not to notice and wandered past her into the house looking for the coffee maker. I wanted a warm cup of coffee and a good book. This was my normal routine before the Beast and if the Beast was not there then I saw no reason I shouldn't jump back into my old routine.

Sitting with my cup of coffee my wife stopped by to ask me if I would hold the Beast so she could make dinner. At first I ignored her but she persisted several times. So I set my book aside and asked her point blank. "What Beast?" Well I thought for a second my wife was going to drop the Beast right on its plastic covered bottom. She waved it in front of my face a few times and said "Uhm. This Beast. Right here." So I looked back at her and said "Dear perhaps you should see a psychiatrist. There's nothing there."

Well much of the night progressed from there into me acting like the Beast wasn't there and my wife attempting to prove that it was. I'm most disappointed to relate that my wife did succeed in the end of convincing me that the Beast is real and we have since agreed that I am no longer in need of psychiatric help. I remain always;

Respectfully Yours,

The Lumpy

On Hunting and Bar-B-Q

Dear Mr. OR,

Perhaps you can tell that as of late I have been receiving some much needed help, about what to do with the Beast, from some of my friends who live near by. This weekend was no different. After discussing with a particular friend how I might be able to get away from the Beast and find some quiet time I learned that his favorite way was to go hunting. Indeed he talked with great longing about how he would fly into the mountains where he lived in Alaska and would hunt sheep up there. Now personally I'm not sure what the attraction to sheep hunting is. First a sheep is not so fast, even on the downhill slope of a mountain, that I would need a helicopter to chase it. Second I'm not certain that they let them out of their pens before shooting or not. If they do not then I find this particular type of hunting to be rather unsportsmanlike.

All in all though hunting sounded like a very good idea. So I gathered up the wife who gathered up the Beast and off we all went after packing in enormous amounts of camping gear and of course my rifle. We drove to the nearest non-posted woods area and set out to set up camp. Three hours later our camp site completely assembled and the fire started I settled down to prepare the Bar-B-Q sauce that would be used on tomorrows kill. Now the Lumpy is not as skilled as he would like in making Bar-B-Q sauces so his darling bride helped him with the recipe. It is a little known fact that Mrs. Lumpy is an amazing culinary artist and makes a particularly delicious Bar-B-Q sauce.

My labors for the day completed I retired to out tent. The entire Lumpy company seamed quite happy. Even the Beast relaxed its usual screaming regiment and spent several hours contemplating its surroundings. Were it not for the standard rocks and roots under the Lumpy's sleeping bag I may have had the first good nights sleep for weeks.

The next morning I woke up early partially from the stiffness caused by the rocks and roots under my makeshift bed partially in excitement for the mornings events. I awoke the Beast and brought it outside of the tent, my mind full of the hunt. I figure since the Beast is such a wily and cunning creature this should be more difficult than any other hunt I had tried as of yet. I laid the Beast down and shoed it toward the woods. But the Beast didn't move. I gave it a nudge... Nothing. The Beast simply sat there and looked at me. This went on for some time until the sun finally peeked through the trees and there I and the Beast sat. Me with my rifle and the Beast staring at me. The Beast is indeed a very cunning creature and must have known that if it didn't run away I would not be able to hunt it. After all how do you hunt what has already been found? Needless to say later that afternoon we packed up a lot of Bar-B-Q sauce and I am now in need of a fair amount of meet from the local supermarket lest the sauce go to waste. I remain always;

Respectfully Yours,

The Lumpy

On Pavlov and His Parade of Marching Dobermen

Dear Mr. OR,

I have made a horrible mistake. I have slowly been working up to giving my wife my wallet so that she will leave the Beast with me and go away for several hours. This would give me the time necessary to do a thorough interrogation of the Beast. However; after recently having a conversation with a friend who informed me that it is possible to be invaded by a whole string of Beasts I was so unnerved that I allowed my wife to leave with the Beast after I handed her the majority of my life’s savings. When I finally recovered I decided that this was for the best as I could use the time to relax and enjoy myself. Now feeling unencumbered and enjoying the new found silence I quickly grabbed a drink, found a wonderful book by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, and retired to my favorite chair. An hour later I was asleep.

My dreams have been very fitful of late and this one was a full blown nightmare. My pleasant home had been invaded by no less than four Beasts of varying sizes, shapes, and genders. Some of them were even able to get around the place on their own. They would wander from room to room tearing and eating my precious books and knocking heirlooms off of tables where these fragile objects would plummet to their doom. My tidy kitchen became a mass of mangled pots and pans strewn with spices as if some large steal eating monster were preparing a great meal. And all the time I ran around after them changing their plastic bottoms and trying desperately to put things away. Why at one point I was chasing all for of them through the house as they wandered from room to room in a solid line of destruction causing limbs. Like a parade of Doberman in a china shop. When I awoke to my wife I was so elated to find it had all been a dream that I even kissed The Beast.

Then it happened. My wife brought out the things that she had bought and if I were a brighter man I would have seen my doom immediately. Alas I am not and it wasn't until my wife put batteries in one of the gadgets that I realized just how much trouble I was in. Where I have been unable to find the means The Beast uses to converse with its cronies, it has figured out a way that people converse with each other. What my wife showed me was a type of walkie talkie that was always on. One side allows a person to talk but not listen and the other side allows the person to listen but not talk. Although I could understand how such a device could be useful in some situations, kind of like a small scale intercom, I couldn't think of any reason why we would need one around the Lumpy residence.

My wife handed me the listen side which I accepted with curiosity. Then to my great dismay she handed The Beast the talk side. To my horror, as if on cue, The Beast began to scream and every vowel was coming through loud and clear through my side of the device only twice as loud. I immediately dropped the device and covered my ears running for the other room. My wife is a quick women; however, and had the device up in a flash and followed me around the house with it, laughing all the while, till I made it to my study where I slammed the door behind me and locked it. Although I could still hear the device just outside my door it was at least now muffled down to a tolerable volume. And now like one of Pavlov’s experiments I wander through my house doing whatever I feel like until my wife gets out that cursed device and then off I go to my study. I shall need to disable that device and right soon or risk becoming a prisoner in my own home. I remain always;

Respectfully Yours,

The Lumpy

On The Adaptation of The Species

Dear Mr. OR

I was sitting in my library over the weekend when my wife approached me and demanded that I hold The Beast for a while so that she could do some things that require two hands. My wife seems to operate under the belief that putting The Beast down will result in its withering like a cut flower on a hot July day. I have; however, tested this theory and I am sorry to report that this is not the case.

So there I sat with The Beast in my lap. The two of us staring at each other. I have often in the past taken this opportunity to try and communicate with The Beast but The Beast refuses to cooperate preferring to stay silent or scream at the top of its lungs but never to converse. Not this time, however. This time The Beast had something new in store for me.

Sitting in my chair I spun The Beast around so it was looking away from me and put it in a sitting position on my lap. With The Beast in this position I can typically read at the same time I'm holding The Beast. Just as I was beginning to enjoy my book the Beast decided to soil itself. Now ordinarily The Beast soiling itself is nothing much to write about as it does this on a regular basis and ever since our first incident we have wrapped The Beasts business end in plastic so as to protect our belongings and sanity. This time was a bit different.

I am convinced that The Beast has been harnessing some kind of evolutionary power that is allowing it to mutate. How do I know this? Well for one it has nearly doubled in size over the last month. Also this last time when The Beast soiled itself it managed to fire the soilage up through the top of its plastic encasing in the back without getting any soilage in the plastic enclosure. In deed if my wife had not recently taken to dressing The Beast like an old women’s schnauzer I would have been covered with the foul stuff. As it was I have one pair of pants that I will never again wear. After much careful thought and a thorough understanding of the significance of what had just happened I called my wife to verify my findings and to help me clean up the mess. My wife; however, was unimpressed and then related to me how four days past The Beast had fired a stream of soilage out the top of its plastic encasing in the front without leaving any soilage in the plastic enclosure. What manner of biological enhancement The Beast has used to create this new onslaught I am unsure of as I am afraid to look. I can just imagine the stream of soilage The Beast would shoot forth should I begin looking around unprotected.

So far The Beast appears to be using it's evolutionary powers in awful but non harmful ways. I dread what will happen should it find a way to develop something truly dangerous. I will continue to watch for new developments. I remain always;

Respectfully yours,

The Lumpy

On Infiltration

Dear Mr. OR

I have been doing some wandering around my neighborhood as of late, mostly to escape the ongoing noise of The Beast at my household, and I have made an interesting observation. It would seam that The Beasts countrymen have begun their infiltration in force. Everywhere I look these days I'm finding signs that there is a significant Beast presence within the town that I live in. What is more many of my friends have had their own houses infested with Beasts as of late and one family member in particular has just warned her husband, The Lumpys Step-Brother-In-Law, of an upcoming invasion of their own homestead. I had a meeting with him to discuss what I know of how our Beast operates and what he can expect as far as the devious nature of the creature. We then discussed game plans and ways in which he could prepare for the upcoming onslaught.

The amount of our friends and families being infiltrated leads me to believe that our Beast is some form of scout sent in to identify viable targets. It was with this understanding that I have done a full search of The Beasts quarters with in the Lumpy residence looking for infiltration strategies, maps of the surrounding area, names of viable targets, but all I found was the phone book which my wife insists I left in there during a late night phone call the other day.

Thus far what interrogation I have been able to conduct has led to little information and the little information I have been gathered was giving to me in The Beasts native tongue. Since I do not speak Beastish I am busily trying to decipher my phonetic transcripts of its utterances. Thus far I have had very little luck. I will; however, remain vigilant and I will let you know if I find your name entering into the picture as a target for infiltration. Until then I remain always;

Respectfully Yours,

The Lumpy

On Horses and Moose

Dear Mr. OR,

I am very concerned with the last several days’ events. Where to begin. Ah Yes. Last week we had a visitor come to visit us from a far off land. Another country in fact. Her and my wife planned the visit and our visitor arrived without a hitch. But what is disturbing to me is that she arrived bearing gifts. She brought with her a small rocking-moose.

At first I was elated. Now my wife would be able to remove The Beast from her hip occasionally. Then it dawned on me. Who brings a gift to a tiny little prisoner that they don't even know? I went to our local jail to see if perhaps this was a fad. After all The Lumpys never want to be out of fashion and if it is now in vogue to bring presents to inmates you don't know... Well... I have tons of interesting junk I would be only too happy to gift wrap. However, after speaking with the nice officer who oversees visitation at the jail I was assured that this is a highly unusual activity even for visitors from other countries.

Then this last weekend I huddled all of the occupants of The Lumpy Residence into the car, no small feet, and headed for a local amusement park for the day. If there were ever a residential task for which husbands should receive purple hearts it is for managing to get the occupants of his house anywhere on time. As is standard for me I would not have gained said purple heart to this date. This fact always ends in my driving like I am part of the Indy 500 and then having a heart attack the moment I see the inevitable police car waiting to catch people who are late due to no fault of their own.

We arrived at the amusement park late and proceeded inside where we met up with a large portion of The Lumpy family. This gaggle of Lumpys proceeded to move from attraction to attraction passing The Beast around so that everyone received their chance to be jailor. That is until we got to the carousel. The entire Lumpy family then out voted The Lumpy resulting in The Beast being brought onto the Carousel and placed upon a gilt covered horse. The entire Lumpy family then spent the entire ride staring at The Beast as if it were the most wonderful thing in the world to watch a Beast on a horse trying to eat the Gold painted pole sticking out of the horses back.

The overall attitude of both the Lumpy family and our guest have led me to believe that people view The Beast as some sort of pet instead of as the threat that it really is. Perhaps this is because of the clothing the wife has chosen for The Beast. It is with this in mind that I am going to the store this afternoon and buying a new wardrobe for the beast consisting of suits made of stripes or traffic cone orange. Perhaps then people will recognize that The Beast is nothing to be trifled with. I remain always;

Respectfully Yours,

The Lumpy

On Cattle and Flypaper

Dear Mr. OR,

It has been quite the day for discovery over here at The Lumpys residence. I have finally learned what it is that The Beast eats and to be honest I feel rather foolish for not simply guessing from the beginning. The Beast eats grass just like cattle. Although I suppose the beast is a little more like a goat in regards to its eating habits as it will try and chew nearly anything. All the same this revelation came to me as I was observing The Beast in my back yard. My wife and I were enjoying the nice summer sun which is always an excuse to also enjoy some ice tea. My wife as always carried The Beast out with us and sat it down on the blanket as well. I have learned not to argue about such things as it invariably ends with me doing what ever I had been planning on doing either with an angry wife and Beast or else alone. As I studied The Beast I noticed that it was expending great amounts of energy trying to move forward. It would strain and reach and grunt and kick its legs up into the air. I find it amazing that The Beast even has legs since as far as I can tell it has no use for them. It is largely parasitic in nature and requires being lugged around by a host. Still to my amazement I noticed that all this effort was beginning to work. The beast began rotating in a clockwise fashion and slowly inching towards the edge of the blanket. After about thirty minutes of this the Beast had reached its goal and immediately began tearing large amounts of grass out of the ground and stuffing it into its mouth. Each successive handful bringing more grass and dirt up to its gapping maw.

This information couldn't have come at a better time as we are having my in-laws over for dinner whom I trust you will recall work for the Red Cross and threatened to send me to Switzerland to be tried on war crimes if I did not feed The Beast. So I have busied myself for part of the morning gathering all manner of grasses and weeds that I might feed them to The Beast tonight while my in-laws are over.

I have also found a way to keep The Beast in a safe area of the house out of harms way. The answer came to me as I was attempting to come up with ways to restrain The Beast. I recall you mentioning that duct tape could be used to silence the creature and thought that it would also make a decent restraint except that duct tape leaves behind a sticky residue that can be very difficult to clean off. Then it struck me. Velcro. And with that I was off to the store again. I came back with large quantities of Velcro and busied myself putting the Velcro onto the wall and onto a set of The Beasts clothing. Then I waited hiding the clothing very carefully where my wife was very unlikely to find it. Several hours later my wife asked me to watch the Beast as she went to the store to pick up dinner for this evenings meal with the in-laws. I cheerfully agreed which made her look at me sideways and taking The Beast I retired to the room I had previously prepared. I carefully put The Beast into its little suit and placed The Beast on the Velcro. The Beast stuck. Indeed it was hanging there like a large fly caught on some fly paper. At this point I started wondering. It would be nice for convenience sake if I didn't have to always walk over to the Velcro to put the beast on it. So I pulled The Beast free and tried gently tossing it over to the spot and was amazed to see the Velcro stuck with out a problem. So I took a step back. I was in fact practicing my hook shots and three pointers when my wife got home from the store. I have been banned from ever buying Velcro or anything sticky for the rest of eternity. I remain always;

Respectfully Yours,

The Lumpy