Out-of-Townie

Since the middle/end of July, I've encountered a great increase of goods and services. There's a large veggie market with a wonderful assortment of colorful musts; there are big stores with big things in them; there are bakeries and ice cream shops; there's a laundromat, to which I take my towels and sheets because they're nearly impossible to hand wash with efficiency. There are also nearly-endless supplies of pesticide and rat poison.

Despite the advantages of being a townie, it is louder than a rock-eating lawn mower, full of Palangi-fied Tongans, and adorned with kids and adults that ask, "One dolla? Two dolla?"
This weekend I dedicated to being anti-social and anti-townie. I went to Kaitlin's village for bestie time and to get a break from barking dogs, construction trucks, roosters, and temptation to spend money.
So I woke up, gathered some necessities at the market (i.e. veggies and Cream Cheese icing from the American store), and biked my way to the village, which is normally a 20-25 minute bikeride for Kaitlin.

Well, 1.) I'm not so good of a biker. 2.) These bikes suck. 3.) My tires are nearly flat, so...4.) It took me forEVER. At one point, my 91-year-old arthritic grandmother could've tip-toed past and I'd have eaten her dust.

Most of the ride, the wind would annoy me with all its force, then the road would get super bumpy and crazy, then I'd just be tired, which made me feel lazy and out of shape, which made me mad, which made me pedal faster, which rebirthed a new cycle of a bad mood.
But luckily I can't be in a bad mood around Kaitlin, so once I got there and stripped down to as little clothing as possible while being appropriate inside a house, we were lazy as sin. Gradually we decided to start preparing food for dinner that night for us and two friends.

The dinner sent us into a food coma, then a food hangover, but as we were moseying through the kitchen to prepare everything, Kaitlin suddenly screamed, "OHHHHHHHH God! WHY? WHY?!!"
"Why what? What's wrong?"
"There's a MOLOKAU! It's the second one this WEEK! Oh God, where did it GO??!!!"

"Do you have scissors? A knife? Anything sharp?"
"Scissors? Why Scissors?"
"To cut off the head."
"Ew." (pause) "Well, I have kitchen knives...which we're currently using."
"Nah, no kitchen knives, that seems gross."
"I have a hammer."
"That's potentially good."
She hands me the hammer, then goes to her classroom next door to search for her scissors. This was quite convenient, since the rust-colored molokau decided to slither and crawl its way across the kitchen floor in her absence.
A word about molokaus: they're fast little shits, and they're aggressive. So when it realized the hammer was coming from me, it darted toward me , which gave me a head-on advantage to smash the thing to pieces, which also left its guts (and a few dents, from my misses) all over the floor.

Kaitlin came in, saying, "Did you kill it?!"
"Yup, it's kinda smashed everywhere and its body's still squirming, but the head's off."
Kaitlin did one of those gross-shivery dances, saying how glad she was that not only was I here, but that I didn't freak out about molokaus like she did.
But she hasn't seem me around rats, either.

Ohhhh, relaxation. :)