It's just a biological speculation...

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Continuing the Conspiracy of the CDC:
(the sky is falling, the sky is falling…with rabies)

Planes and helicopters fly over our property occasionally. I kind of like it cause it reminds me of home. Mainly the helicopters fly over because we’re the family from the golden state of liberal free loving dope smoking pinkos and the local authorities assume that we’ve moved here to forge a new market of cannabis cultivation. To their chagrin, we got all of that out of our system decades ago and about the only cultivation of “weed” they’ll find is in the rag family. The planes however, are typically of the military kind. Usually, it’s a simple game of Top Gun grab ass swooping high above our trees, but on this day, a military plane was simply circling our property.

I was on the back porch sipping sweetened iced tea before I headed into weed the garden when I heard our neighbor Rodney yell out an expletive that echoed through the hills. I believe it started with a hollered Holy coupled with a word that rhymes with duck. He was helping Doc dig a ditch, because what else are you supposed to do on a hot humid day such as this one. Both Doc and I stopped what we were doing, and simultaneously thought, “We’re gonna get sued”.

With that sick feeling in the pit of our stomach we ran over to Rodney to see what had happened. Rodney, was just standing there topless baring his Jim Morrison tattoo and scratching his head. He looked over to us and held out a small object in his hand. “This f*%#ing thing just fell from that airplane and almost hit me on the F*%#ing head”

He was clearly shaken by the prospect of the velocity that this small metal thing falling hundreds of feet from the air would have done to his freshly shaved scalp. We, on the other hand, were clearly relieved that we would not be the target of a lawsuit. So there we were standing by a walnut tree looking at this small metal box in Rodney’s hand wondering if it was an important part of the planes engine. We could hear the plane circling nearby, staring at each other it was clear we were all listening for the same thing: a plane crash.

As the plane circled further away from our home, Rodney took a closer look at the object. “Step away…” he muttered, Doc and I just stood there frozen. “Step away, looks like this thing might have a detonator…” He walked over to a pile of rocks and carefully set down the mini “bomb”. Doc and I were sure that the West Virginia government was sending us a message to get out of their state.

In a nagging wifely manner, I began the I told you so lecture to Doc regarding all those political emails detailing the corruption and lies of the current regime running this country. “Don’t you know “they” know you’re a dissident?” I said in typical accusatory fashion. “I just knew the Patriot Act would get us in the end!” Now it was I who was panicking like a plywood shack Montana Militia dweller.

“Hey look there’s a phone number on this thing and it’s from the United States Government!” exclaimed Rodney.

Doc ran into the house grabbed the digital camera to gather further evidence of a possible government conspiracy; I called the number on the phone.

“Center for Disease Control” said the chirpy receptionist.

“Ummm, hello, like I live in umm, West Virginia? And my friend was totally working in like our garden? And this thing totally fell from the sky and almost like hit him on the head. It’s a little metal box and has your phone number on it. I was wondering if it’s something that’s umm, like, important to the plane that dropped it?” While I’m talking I’m realizing that not only do I revert to California Valley Girl speak when having a few glasses of wine, it also happens when I’m like totally nervous, ya know? Way!

Silence fell over the phone, and it was clear that the receptionist didn’t know whether to giggle or call the Pentagon. “I’m not sure how to handle this, so hold on a second” she said placing me on hold. And I waited on hold for 10 minutes, when she came back she gave me a number to call and without another word hung up the phone. Calling the new number, I received an answering machine message with nothing but a cryptic female voice on the other end saying “Please leave a message”. So like I totally did and to this day have not received any reply.

Meanwhile, CSI: Hillbillies; Agent Doc and Field Officer Rodney are donning rubber gloves taking exact measurements and inspecting the wax substance in the middle of the metal box. When someone asks the question: “What if the US government deliberately dropped these boxes to test some new bio weapon on unsuspecting rural communities? I mean, wouldn’t West Virginia be one of those states where the government just simply wouldn’t care?” Day turned to night, by 8 o’clock and a few beers later, all of us were convinced that something sinister was happening and there would be a History Channel exposé in 20 years about this day.

Exhausted by ditch digging and possible bio warfare not to mention the beer, we decided to quit for the evening and try to get some rest when the phone rings. For a split second there is a sickening silence that falls over us, then like a wild jack rabbit, Doc runs to answer the phone. Sadly, the government wasn’t on the other end…it was the plumber Mike calling to discuss the issues with the water heater.

I could hear Doc droning on about BTUs, when I overhear him tell the story. It is apparent Mike is telling Doc to check something on the net as Doc has just sprinted to log on to Google. It appears that our water heater repairman is in the know on the tiny metal box. Seems the little box contains oral vaccinations of rabies for raccoons and are dropped in rural communities to guard against potential outbreaks.

Feeling relieved yet really stupid our lives quickly went back to normal. Patriot Act be damned, Doc sent out his political propaganda and I argued with my mother about her choice of presidential candidates. Ahhh, yes, this land of the free and home of the brave.

Copyright ©2004

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