Tonight, a grill had to die.

Well, I guess it didn't HAVE to die. But nonetheless, I destroyed it with the weight of 12 bricks and my stupid, stupid stupidity.

See, the littlest dog I have has an amazing ability to dig holes under fences and squeeze her tiny self under. One morning, I woke up and SHE WAS GONE.

After I freaked out and papered the neighborhood with ugly yellow signs, a man called me. She was apparently having a good time helping him put down some paving stones in his back yard. I was so glad to see her, I cried. I told her then to always stay with the pack, and she has. Still, I feared losing her, so I went and got a bunch of bricks.

Bricks are heavy and scratchy. I had about 75 of them, over 2 trips. I could only take about 4 at a time. More were too heavy, because I had to carry them from the front of the house all the way around to the back, and I did not want to drop any of them on any metatarsals or the like.

On the 2nd carload, I got frustrated. I don't own a wheelbarrow or a dolly or anything that could logically be used to carry the bricks in greater quantities. Thinking I was being creative, I seized upon the only item in sight with wheels and a bowllike structure: the portable $20 grill that I had purchased last year and allowed to rust out considerably!!!

Carting it around to the front, I put in 8 bricks, more or less carefully. Then I added 4 more. I tilted the grill up onto the wheels. It began to lurch away from my hand. I jerked it upright. It grew heavier. The rickety frame, now bent from its bolts, lost shape and sagged towards the concrete like a drunken sailor. "Oh, well that's not working very well," I said aloud, by way of explanation to the 5 or 7 people who passed me by on their evening walks.

Angered and embarrassed by the grill's collapse and my lack of any forethought as to how this would actually work, I yanked up on the handle in an effort to just haul the entire bowlful of bricks around to the back. CRASH! It hit the concrete again, the plastic handle snapping in twain. "Well, that's REALLY not working very well, is it?" I said, more angrily this time. I removed the bricks, tiny load by tiny load, from the shambles that was once a grill, then I took that crumpled hunk of black-enameled metal and shiny silver legs around the back and, just like I did with J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye, chunked it right across the yard.

My dogs are safe now, and I think that's worth more than the life of a rusty charcoal cooker.

The way I reckon it, I'm an artist, not an engineer.


I can see what you mean. It just takes me a little longer.

-- Lee, Lifeson, Peart: Rush


Violet said…
You get definite points for creative problem solving... Just the implementation went a little off target. However, at least the ultimate goal was achieved.
Ari said…
I guess I'm an artist, not an engineer, Violet.
Ari said…
Ok, I cheated and went back and changed my last line. Thanks, Violet! Your comment inspired me.
defiant goddess said…
Ari, you are such a good writer. I can totally visualize everything you write. And although I did feel a little sad for the grill, I still couldn't help giggling all the way through. At least it only cost $20. :)
Ari said…
Thank you for saying so, Renee. I'm glad to know something good comes from my childish spats. :)
Amandarama said…
Grills can be replaced. Pets never really can be. I'm glad you found your dog!
Julie said…
It's very surprising how heavy those little things are, isn't it?? It took me forever to haul bricks to my back yard too for a project...

So glad you got your baby back..
I have a board and some bricks at my fence b/c my little devil can get out at the gate,, he has on many occasions and that is so heartbreaking.

You covered very well.. I would have been saying 'that was deliberate,, this grill was old,, it was deliberate'...
KAMHauck said…
so I came across your website from Troy's (interdisciplinary world) and your comment on Updike, and have now successful pondered away the past hour reading through your blog (I thought the depiction of the texan on the grocery cart beating the washing machine with a dildo was very well done btw).

So, I just want to say you rock and you're my new hero.

And in order to relate this comment to the parent post regarding the death of the grill: Don't worry, where one grill dies, another lives. In fact, just last week on the fourth of July, I bore witness to a grill bursting into flames as two peruvian nuns hurried the fire with a hairdryer...

I know, that anecdote really has little to do with the parent post. Except its also about a grill--one that survived and fulfilled its duty in blazing glory.
Ari said…
So true, Amanda.

They are heavy, Julie! Makes one feel old and wimpy, but they are.

Thanks for your kind words, Kristen! If I can help anyone waste an hour, then my life is well spent. I also salute any grill who dies in the service of others.
Azathoth said…
Glad you found your dog. I feel bad for the grill though. But Amandarama's right, a grill isn't worth a dog's life.
Trevor Record said…
Haha, is there some sort of moral for hard work or preparedness here?

(but just what in the heck do you mean by that salinger comment?)
Latigo Flint said…
"I think I even miss that goddamn Maurice. It's funny. Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."

(That was very well writ Ari, by the way.)
Ari said…
You know, it's funny, Aza. A visiting friend of mine, seeing the grill's splayed hulk in the grass, set it to rights. It's back in it's place and possibly usable again. :) A happy ending perhaps. I do like the fact that I was able to inspire sympathy for a rusty charcoal grill in more than one person.

The moral of this, Trevor, is: Despite my generally high opinion of myself, I'm occasionally really thickheaded and foolish. What I mean by that Salinger comment is, I hate Salinger and I actually did throw that "classic" Catcher in the Rye across the room after reading it, I hated it so.

Don't arouse my ire, Latty, with that drivel. But thanks for the kind words, though. :)

Popular posts from this blog

Chihuahua Canticle

111 Wussiest Songs of All Time

Zappadan Adventure