Could You Leave Please?

 

I was with my daughter, Autumn yesterday, when she showed me a video clip from Saturday Night Live. I haven't watched the show in years because it became so political that it ceased to be funny. However, the clip she showed me was hilarious.
It was a spoof of Yankee candles. It showed guests who had long overstayed their visit, and regardless of numerous hints, they just wouldn't leave the host's home. Finally, he resorted to lighting a candle that stank. Unlike Bayberry or Pumpkin, this candle was Get the ---- out of my house!
It came in assorted smells like Rotten egg fart, Old Broccoli in a Plastic Bag, and Sweaty Crocs. It was really quite a hilarious skit, and as I was watching it, an unpleasant memory from my past came charging back into my mind.

Some years back, when we were still living in Hoonah, I was working at one of the local stores that sold marine fuel. A fellow who I knew in passing came to the store and asked for some gas for his boat. While he was fueling up, he mentioned deer hunting. I hadn't shot anything yet, and the season was getting on. He mentioned that he had shot several deer, to come to his house that evening and he'd give me one.

It was an incredibly generous offer, and since I had a number of kids at home, I accepted. Jan and I went up to his home after dinner, and he proceeded to butcher the deer right in his kitchen and package it for us. While we were talking, his wife produced some cake and then brought out a stack of brand new T-shirts that she wanted Jan to choose from to take home. Needless to say, we were overwhelmed with the generosity, and left their house feeling humbled and blessed. Had we known what accepting that generous offer would entail, we would have politely declined.

The next night, or shortly thereafter, there was a knock on the door and our generous friends were there, coming for an unannounced visit. They stayed for several hours, even through the bedtime routine for the kids. It was unexpected, but not totally unpleasant, and I just wrote it off as them not having anything else to do.

When they showed up again the next night, again unannounced, I started to see the writing on the wall. What was I going to do? The fellow and his wife had given us a deer, as well as cake and T-shirts. I didn't realize that there was going to be a price to be paid for their generosity.

For almost a month or so, it was a nightly occurance for them to show up on our doorstep. I didn't want to be rude and ask them to leave, but they were taking over my life. We sat in the living room with long periods of uncomfortable silence, because we had talked about almost everything that we had in common already. It was like enduring some form of demonic torture.

Eventually the wife started coming by the house in the mornings to visit Jan, who really didn't have time to visit, as we had several small children still at the house. I would come home for lunch and she'd be there. If I was lucky, she'd leave so I could eat my lunch in peace, but later, she and her husband would show up after supper. They were like the neighbors from hell, only they weren't neighbors.

It became such a problem that eventually Jan would hear the car pull up out front and she would hide, sometimes under the front window. The gal would stay on the porch and knock until it became evident that no one was going to answer. We then started taking nightly trips in the car, right after dinner, so we wouldn't be home when they came by. We became terrified of answering the phone in the evening, for fear that it would be them. After about a month, they finally got a hint. The lady sent Jan a card saying something to the effect that she didn't understand why we didn't get together anymore. It was probably unfair for us to not address the reason, but neither of us wanted to give them any excuse to start coming by again.

Unfortunately, Yankee Candle hadn't come out with a repellant candle that has terribly offensive odors yet, or I could have saved myself a great deal of stress. If I'd only known that piece of mind could have been attained with the lighting of a candle that smelled like farts. Actually, I'm kind of mad at myself for not thinking of such a thing myself. I could be rich now. Oh well.