It is unmistakably evident that we are on our own. It is the Hays House against the Alien Attack Dog (AAD). Right now all is quiet as the AAD has moved into some sort of activity in the Room Formerly Known As The Man Room, now converted into the Ladies Lounge, Crafting Center and Sewing Annex. I am a bit curious what the AAD is doing in the Room Formerly Known As The Man Room, so I sneak out the back door around the side of the house to look through the window of the RFKAT Man Room. The AAD is dragging MY blue plastic Panasonic TV, the one with a rotary 13 channel VHF selector and vice grip clamps for the missing UHF selector, out of the RFKAT Man Room closet by way of the rabbit-ear antennae in its jaws. OH NO! It has found the secret stash of Man Treasure!
What is the AAD doing with the Man Treasure? I look around on the floor a noticed other pieces. The Nintendo 64, a 9V battery hooked to a small light bulb, the keyboard to the IBM PS2 computer (with the 8 MB Hard Drive!), the dot matrix printer with paper, a suitcase-sized VHS/DVD combo player and the box of VHS tapes and DVD archiving 9 years of CCCHS Tiger Football. The AAD starts to configure and hard wire all the pieces together.
I rack my brain trying to figure out what it is up to. No Manilow involved thank goodness. Hey maybe the AAD is trying to replace the TV it zapped into oblivion to the tune of Taylor Swift on CMT. Maybe the AAD is not so evil after all. It finishes the connections, then switches on the TV by pulling the ON/OFF switch out. The AAD fiddles with the N64, inserts some of the media into the players and a scratchy image begins to appear on the TV screen in black and white (but since the Panasonic Blue Plastic TV is B&W, no surprise there). The image is of another alien dog with laser beam ocular weapons. It is sending messages back to headquarters! It is reporting the preparations are almost complete and the full Alien Dog Invasion can begin with 24 hours!
We are doomed. I pound on the window and scream at the AAD to stop. The AAD turns to the window and fires a laser beam shot, blowing out the window. I dive to the ground out of harm’s way and crawl back around to the back patio where I flop into a patio chair. Just as I am about to give up in utter desperation, around the corner of the garage casually strolls a cat. I perk up. Hope for mankind has just jumped in my lap. This is nor ordinary household feline. It is Big Bad Bud! Bud, we are counting on your skillset.
THE COACH HAYS 