FRIDAY EVE!  Yup, it's Thursday and boy did it start with a shock.  "Ding-dong, Ding-dong...Open the God Damn door, I  know you're in there!"  We awoke to that pleasant greeting being screamed through the security bars on our double-wide's front door at the absolutely ungodly hour of 11am.  Look, our clock doesn't even have 11am on it. (Actually it doesn't really have any readable time on it since Kevin drop kicked it across the "bonus room" the last time it's alarm went off before noon - but that's another story).   Anyway, we grabbed the baseball bat (Louisville Slugger / Reggie Jackson autograph model - Home Shopping Network, just 3 easy installments of $39.95 each!) and headed for the door.

As it turns out, it was only the propane delivery guy here to refill our tank.  He was pissed off because our neighbor's Pit Bull was on the loose (again) and had chewed up his last "Demand for Final Payment" notice attached to our gas valve from last week.    It seemed simple to us - no paperwork, no default - fill the tank and quit yelling!  This is California, the land of the poor and abused (we don't like being poor, but we do like being abused - call us if you're available Friday night!) so we knew our rights.  He was an evil Capitalist trying to take advantage of us poor undocumented non-English speaking immigrants by "claiming" there used to be paperwork, but the dog ate it (we quit using the "dog ate it excuse" in third grade).   To be fair, we have documents (mostly cease & desist orders), we speak English (when we're not falling down drunk, then we revert to our native Vulcan tongue) and we're not immigrants (we do like the food though), but it just seemed like the thing to say since we hear it so often.

Anyway, we finally conviced him to fill our tank since he had no documentation that we still owed money from the the last fill-up.  This compromise was aided by a bottle of Yukon Jack and us hooking him up with Rashandra down in space 21A since we knew her husband was gone on his work-release job and she has...ah...er...let's just call them "needs."   We got the propane (on credit!) and actually were relieved that he wasn't the bail agent looking for us from Louisiana where we "skipped" a few weeks ago.  When that guy shows up it's not gonna be pretty and we'll probably need the Pit Bull and the  baseball bat.  In the meantime, we figure we have allot to celebrate and it is Friday Eve, so...

      
It was exactly 11am - we looked at the clock!                               There wasn't any written notice that we could see!

      
It just seemed like the thing to yell at the gasman.              Stacy keeps up on all the legal stuff by always studying!