Don't Squeeze The Shaman

What a great weekend to get out and catch up on the yardwork. All that rain brought my lawn back from the living dead and I actually had to drag my mower out of hibernation. Not only was the grass taller, but I also had a fresh crop of mushrooms.

As I passed over a patch of mushrooms with the mower, large chunks of fungus shot out everywhere. I guess I must have inhaled some spores or something because next thing I know I'm no longer mowing my yard.

During college, I read a few Carlos Castaneda books, but I have no recreational experience with mushrooms and I am not a licensed medicine man. My memory is a little foggy, but as best I can piece together, I traveled through space and time to a tiny Plains Indian village and the early 1800s.

I was greeted by a shaman and he told me I was on a spiritual journey. He said I should enjoy my brief stay with his people and that I should not try to share my experience with anybody who may not understand. Unfortunately, circumstances dictate that I provide an explanation for my actions.

For the record, I'd like to apologize to my next door neighbors, Bob and Judy. I am not familiar with crossbred hybrid roses like the ones mentioned in your lawsuit, but I will do my best to make this right. As for the humiliation suffered by Brutus, all I can say is that in my hallucinogenic state, I thought he was an appaloosa pony and we were hunting buffalo. Winter is coming and I was trying to provide for my people. You must admit that some of the large-breed dogs do resemble equines. The good news is that I can assure you that there are no buffalo roaming through your property.

My wife is not speaking to me and I have to replace the Merle Norman make-up that I used for warpaint. The back yard is total disarray. A large comforter is draped over the kid's swing set. I guess I was trying to construct a sweat lodge or maybe just a tepee. If you happen to live nearby and are missing a comforter from your clothes line, please don't judge me too harshly.

After my weekend misadventure I am probably going to hire a lawn service. Too entrenched in the duties of husband, father and neighbor, I must, heretofore, leave spiritual journeys to those who really have the freedom to travel.