Water in the watering can; “I’ve made life easier for you…”

My dad can be both ironic and unknowingly hypocritical.


He made me break my back Thursday morning until afternoon, helping him with the plethora of chores that involves the massive pile of animals he had decided, many years ago, to share residence in our humble abode as means of promoting responsibility and a sensation of Zen. It pretty much made my life crappy and burdened with irrelevant workload and worries.


The Rastafarian Pup bathed, the aquariums washed and the turtles fed later, I moved to refilling the rabbit’s water-bottles. Unknowing to me, he had actually placed a watering can full with water near the cage, for me to fill the bottles with.


I didn’t notice, of course, and when he saw me heading (trudging) towards the pipes, he said to me; “There’s water in the watering can. I’ve filled it for you.”


“Oh,” I said, and walked back to the cages.


“I made life easier for you. What do you think I’d do?”


“Ah.”


I was crouching on the ground, refilling the bottles, when it hit me like the boulder from Raiders of the Lost Ark. I laughed grimly, flushing away the rabbit droppings.


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A note to all:


If you’ve heard about the infamous Orson Wells War of the Worlds radio broadcast that caused nationwide mayhem because people actually believed martians were invading with heat rays and tripods, it’s now available for you to listen.


Part one of the broadcast is here: http://youtube.com/watch?v=4wf5TPVz56A. You can find the remainder of it there as well.


One part of Stephen King’s Danse Macabre (a study of the horror fiction genre by the King of macabre himself) talked about horror on the radio. He harkened back to the time where radio drama was just as staple as Heroes and Desperate Housewives are to us; a fusion of dialogue and narration (by 1950’s radio spokespersons, which can say “Ladies and Gentlemen, we interrupt this broadcast to bring you…” in such perfection you wonder what evolutionary pandemic had caused our voices to degrade) that played on our imagination, giving us the canvas to draw on rather than a full picture.


I’ve read that part, which has Arch Oboler and Orson Wells and some interesting measures of horror voices and sound effects can give you, and went to try the vast ocean of Youtube for some samplings. I wasn’t disappointed.


Orson Wells’ War of the Worlds, I’d say, is ingenious. The things they can do before the tube of images and sounds turned into imagination itself.