I blog gluten-free

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Let Me Guess...Is It...Seitan? (Part Deux)

Every now and then, when life gets me down, and and I'm chewing on life's grizzle... I remember that others have it worse. Or I distract myself in a most uncharitable way. I call it the Jerry Springer Continuum. That is "Cheer up. Look at the crazies! Without them, this would be a boring dark world indeed!"

I died laughing reading a Craig's List ad for someone to scare the hell out of a recalcitrant child. See:
You Suck At Craigslist for all sorts of cute, scary and just odd findings.

There was this delightful little ad:

Need someone to be satan to scare child

Lately my son who is 9 years old has been getting a little out of hand. He has the foulest mouth I have ever heard and wont stop smoking. He talks back yells at his mother and pretty much any other bad thing you can think of a child doing . I am looking for someone willing to come to my home dressed as satan to scare my child into being good. You would need to have a devil type costume and just come in the house surrounded by smoke and scary music then just talk to him and let him know if he does not change his ways he will be joining you down in hell. Maybe explain to him that hell is hot all the time and that he will have to do homework 24 hours a day in hell (he hates homework). I feel this will scare him into being good . I dont have a lot of time or patience for the discipline stuff

This, of course is bloody awful. Don't do it! But... think about this logically. Has ANYONE (and I've used it myself) ever gotten exactly what they were looking for out of Craig's List? This little gem illustrates the Continuum nicely, and makes me, who actually tries to avoid passing bread baskets at restaurants and events, chuckle madly.
My thanks to ghostcat and You Suck At Craigslist, it was the best chuckle I'd had in a while!
He was here, the guy from CraigsList! Now all of Merle’s parenting troubles would be over. With a glance down the hall towards his son’s room, where a thick fog of cigarette smoke lingered and the the muted click of glass against glass was nearly drowned out by the flood of curses, he headed towards the front door. It was Junior’s poker night; Merle had seen him only minutes before in the kitchen, dressed in his SpongeBob pajamas, getting more ice out of the freezer.
Merle hurried to the door, hoping the bell hadn’t disturbed Junior. He didn’t want to get the belt again. Flinging open the door, he noticed that Junior had been practicing carving his intials into the wood again. Better that than when he had used their living room furniture to perfect his tagging techniques.
On the steps was a large lumpy shape, vaguely man-shaped and man-sized, that smelled strongly of garlic and soy sauce. It resembled uncooked bread dough and had been splashed generously with a thick, dark red liquid. A drop fell on Merle’s wrist and he absently licked it off.
Barbecue sauce.
“Hey, you Merle?”
Merle nodded.
“Finally! Do you know how many Deffenberks there are in this town? I’ve been getting all kinds of strange looks. Where can I plug in the smoke machine?”
Merle’s mouth, which had been working as frantically as a hairdresser on meth, finally produced words.
“What…You…But…But you’re suppose to be Satan!” The lumpy thing seemed to roll its eyes, but it could have been a couple of sesame seeds shifting position.
“Of course I’m seitan! That’s what you asked for, right?”
“Not seitan,” Merle hissed “I wanted Satan! Satan!”
“Geez, you don’t have to get upset. Look, I printed out the ad. It says “satan” right here.” From somewhere within the creases in the brown mass a hand produced a crumpled piece of paper, speckled with sauce.
“Yes! Satan! The devil! Old Scratch, the Prince of Lies, Mr. Mephistopheles! Not seitan!” Merle was trying to keep his voice low but he could not help twitching his arms about like a gaffed trout. The stranger studied the sauce-dampened paper for a moment.
“Oh. I just thought you misspelled seitan. No one spells anything right on CraigsList.” He paused. “Listen, since I’m here already and I built this suit, do you want me to try scaring the kid?”
“No! He regularly terrorizes biker gangs! Nuns weep blood when he passes them on the street! Every pet within a ten mile radius has run away! An animate lump of boiled wheat gluten isn’t going to scare him! Why would you think that?!?”
The drippy lump looked down at its shapeless shoes.
“I thought he might have celiac disease or something like that.”

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