For Sale in Laramie: The Stories Behind the Listings

Actual items taken from Facebook Group, Laramie Wyoming Buy and Sell Stuff.  No rabbits or chickens were harmed in the making of this post.

Partial bag of chicken food.  4 chickens included you haul.

We got the chickens one Easter when li’l Jackie stole ‘em out of old man Franklin’s yard.  We let ‘em run the house when they was little but they got big and didn’t wanna go outside.  Jackie was thinkin’ they was them Leghorn chickens and would lay white eggs but one of ‘em’s a Araucana and its always dropping blue eggs and the other three’s them Olive Egger cross-breeded kind that make green ones.  They’re mean and always peckin’ at the cat and we don’t find the eggs right away on account of they drop em’ behind the sofa or in the laundry room and we don’t know until they stank.  Nobody’ll eat the colored eggs anyway, even though they look the same on the inside. The chickens hadn’t been too much mess ‘cuz dogs is coprophagous and Buckney’d just follow ‘em around and lick it up like whoop cream but then he got worms and we hadda put him out.  One night we put the chickens back in Franklin’s yard but they just back here the next day and comin’ in through the tear in the screen door.  We finally decided they gotta go somewhere far, even though they all got names.

175 PSI Air Storage Tank

R2 was always the spoiled one.  Such a mama’s boy, always whining about having to anything.  Hell, she changed his oil until he was, like, twelve, and I’m like, “Dude, seriously, it’s not that hard!”  Used to wheel around naked as a trash can, no vocabulary, no social skills, and then he lands the big one, the gig, and all of a sudden he’s zippin’ around in his fancy blue suit and treatin’ the rest of us like shit.  Everyone thinks he’s so damn cute, right, the brat, but the truth is he’s a rotten, selfish can of aluminum wire.  I asked him for fifty bucks the other day and he’s all like, “No, you’re gonna spend it on synthetic oils and some rusted alley-can whore,” like I need his lectures or his newfound morality.  Jerk didn’t even get me a role as an extra.  I would have rocked the scene in Episode 3 where the droid is having his feet burned.  Think Gielgud’s Hamlet.

Anyone have fifty bucks?  I can fill up your tires for you. . .

Cloth Diapers $10 Used but great condition

If you’re interested in those, you might consider some other items I have for sale:

  • Siftable cat litter.  Cat only used it a few times.
  • Half-eaten frozen rib-eye.
  • Partial dentures.  These weren’t mine originally but worked surprisingly well.
  • Small bag of used dental floss.  Rinsed well.
  • Diaphragm.  It didn’t work for me, but I may have put it in wrong.
  • Hairbrush. Missing a few bristles.  Don’t see any lice on it.
  • ½ tube Preparation H™ with original applicator.
  • Contact lens (1) for nearsighted person.
  • Roll of cohesive bandages.  Only worn for a week.
  • ½ package of U by Kotex™ tampons.  Barely used at end of cycle.  Still look white.

Disney Dory Bowling Set

Are your children too quiet? Do you wish that there was more noise in your house? Try the Disney Dory Bowling Set! Who doesn’t appreciate the sound of a hard, plastic bowling ball on your wood or tile floor, crashing violently into pins while you relax in the bathtub?  Or the pleasantly musical echo of a pin thumped against a younger sibling’s head?  Comes complete with instructions and additional activities, such as juggling, the riotous “Don’t Hit the TV” game, and “Lawn Darts” (weighted, stainless steel attachable dart heads sold separately).

ISO Someone to come help clip bunny nails!

The change was subtle, like the moon from night to night in slow wax.  They’re everywhere of course.  Dogs chase them, cars avoid them.  They blend into the colors of the landscape, and you can often miss them except for their cotton colored tails bouncing down the alley like marshmallows.  But then we saw signs: claw-marks on the fence, too small for a bear. At night, queer sounds cut through the cold air, guttural and malevolent.  There were rumors: a husk of hares stalking a fawn; two rabbits at dusk, walking slowly down an alley, their claws long and bloodied. Maybe they’re not harmless little bunnies.

We begin in the morning, with nets and snares and Safari™Professional Nail Trimmers.  Cutting their nails is the first step to ending this nightmare.  The moon is fat and high.  I’ll lock my doors as soon as Suzanne comes back from walking the dog.  They’ve been gone a very long time. . .

 

 

Highway Hazards and Animal Abodes

Wyoming’s landscape rolls like waves: treeless hills of sagebrush undulate under a large sky.  Mesas and buttes poke their heads above the restless, arid plains, ravines carved by long-ago water snake between the hills, and massive tan rock formations thrust into the sky like curious animals.  Traveling east on I-80 on our way to Omaha, I became aware of a gradual descent, a flattening of the geography, as if someone was pulling the sheets tight on a bed.  Uneven grazing lands filled with cows gave way to miles and miles of corn, wheat, and soybeans, ponds and reservoirs, and the lush green of America’s heartland.

Interstate 80 is a major thoroughfare, filled with 18-wheelers satisfying the country’s insatiable demand for products.  But if semis are the red blood cells of the American economy, motor homes are the cholesterol-carrying fat cells.  These bloated road hogs reach 40 feet in length have romantic, hyperbolic names like ‘Bighorn,’ ‘Reflection,’ or ‘Quantum.’  The monolithic ‘Dutch Star’ we passed allows its passengers to enjoy nature with Bermuda glazed maple hardwood cabinets, a king-sized bed, induction cooktop, Samsung TV and Blu-ray player.  At over $400,000, this example of conspicuous consumption keeps the oil industry healthy, getting a miniscule six miles per gallon on flat roads.  If I stayed in a $300/night hotel for 30 nights each summer for ten years, I’d have spent only $90K. But to each their own.  You go on with your bad self, draggin’ your ‘Stryker’ down the road at 63 m.p.h.  Enjoy your mortgage.

Speaking of road hazards, Burger King has now made my list of things to avoid while driving, like deer, or hitchhikers in prison garb.  I was possessed to go there in the first place at the prospect of actually being able to order a burger before 11 a.m., which for some reason is anathema to most fast food joints.  But, to my annoyance, I was informed that the flame-broiling-Whopper-maker was incapacitated, so I settled for a bacon, egg, and cheese Croissan’wich.  The picture on the left, below, looks delicious, yes?  But oh, my, what I got (see picture on the right) was the most disturbing bite of ‘food’ I’ve ever eaten.  Yes, bite (singular), because I threw the rest away.  I would have licked a Silverback’s butt to get the taste out of my mouth, but in the absence of the primate, orange juice, coffee, a cigarette, a day old, overripe banana, and water did the trick after about twenty minutes. Cindy’s sausage version of the same thing tasted like it’d been dipped in kerosene before serving, and the hash brown nuggets like they’d been hammered in eight-day old spoiled fryer-oil.  Shame on you, Burger King on 205 N. Greeley Hwy, just off I-80 in Cheyenne!  Shame on you, plastic-faced spokesperson Ronald McDonald wannabe King! I am sick when I do look on thee!

 

Speaking of Silverbacks, the Omaha Zoo offers a reasonably priced opportunity to view a wealth of the world’s animal species.  Depending on what survey you look at or who you talk to, it’s up there with the San Diego Zoo in the number one or two spots on the “Best Zoos” list, but at half the price.  We got there early, allowing us some peaceful exploring before the inevitably strident invasion of children under ten.  Highlights for us included the gorillas, the desert dome and swamp beneath it (I had forgotten beavers were that big), and the aquarium with its stunning collection of jellyfish.

Our trip concluded with a visit to my cousin Jennifer Schurman’s farm near Pickrell, between Lincoln and Beatrice.  In addition to her day job, she runs the Shepherd’s Rest Goat and Sheep Rescue, a not-for-profit providing rehab and sanctuary to these animals.  I’ll admit, it’s kind of trippy taking a walk through the woods with thirty-six hooved and horned mammals of all shapes and sizes.  She’s fundraising for hay right now: you can find the organization’s page on Facebook (Facebook@ShepherdsRestRescue).  And if you’re in the area, Goat Yoga takes place on weekends.