Drunken Chaos Reigns in Sumner County

Joannie Higgenbotham, Staff Writer

Firefighters and Emergency Rescue were called to a residence outside of Portland today.  What they found when they arrived was unexpected and put several of the respondents lives in danger, as well as the surrounding neighborhood.


T. Phineas Rex, of Portland, had been drinking when he fell off the table he had been using as a sundeck.  Mr. Rex fell two feet, injuring his left arm.  When Emergency rescue arrived, Mr. Rex was in a drunken rage, yelling "It's the extinction all over again, man!"  He then proceeded to lunge at EMTs and firefighters while claiming they were "out to get him."  During the melee, Mr. Rex snapped his teeth and swiped his tail at those present, knocking down one EMT and ripping the coat of a firefighter.

Mr. Rex then entered a neighbor's yard where he proceeded to climb onto a dog and ride it as it ran, frightened, around the neighborhood.  After several minutes, Mr. Rex fell off the dog and passed out in a nearby yard.             

One of Mr. Rex's neighbors, who would only identify herself as Azra, witnessed the episode.  All she would say about the incident was, "Been hitting the cider again, has he?" 

Mr. Rex is now resting at home.  No one was injured but charges of Public Intoxication and Endangerment are pending. 
     

A little helpless...

Yesterday, upper Sumner County and parts of Allen and Simpson Counties in Kentucky were under the gun.  Tornado warnings lit up the map.  I was sitting with the kids when I heard those words no one ever wants to hear:  "The rotation is right over (the road I was on) so if you're in that area, you want to get to your safe area right now."

 I stood in the front door at the one point and said a small prayer: "Oh, Set.  Turn Your Eye away from here."  I had to wonder too if we had time to get to the neighbors - there was no way I wanted any of us to be a cliche.  "All those houses and that thing went straight for the trailer!"  Been there, done that.    

Once again, I found myself feeling a little helpless.   The oldest kid started getting scared and wanted the two of us to go hide from the storm.  Apparently, he felt his little brother could fend for himself (then again, he wasn't even fazed.  He put his shoes on and wanted outside to play before he got distracted by a video game.)  I've tried to help this kid deal with his fears in the past but it hasn't stuck.  I'm not even sure I know what I'm doing anyway plus they get such conflicting messages from their parents.
 
I know he's four years old.  I know he's not capable of understanding things like an adult would.  I also remember being terrified myself when a storm would blow up because of the tornado that blew away our trailer when I was four.  I would nearly wear the floors out where I would walk from window to window, trying to keep watch so the tornado wouldn't sneak up on me.  I wasn't able to deal with the fear until I was in my 20's and I would hate to see him having to do the same thing.  I would hate it even more if he stayed terrified for his entire life. 

A gardener's tale...

I've been harvesting the seed from my arugula and purple kale plants.  I have to, especially after the last time.  I didn't know.  I just.  Didn't. Know.

I was looking forward to huge bowls of salad when I first planted them.  All those purple and green leaves.  Gourmands called them 'spicy,' but most folks I knew just said they were bitter.  My plans worked well - bowls and bowls of salads came out of my patch.  Arugula, kale, romaine.  Sweet lettuces too, to balance the bitterness: oak leaf, grand rapids, black seeded simpson.  I had them all. 

When the arugula bloomed, I daydreamed about even more salads.  Same with the kale.  The plants were prolific, putting out thousands of seed and dispersing them before I even realized they were ready.  Again, I didn't think much about it.  I just thought I'd find plants in strange places for the next few months. 

Then the people started disappearing all across northern Sumner County.  One or two at first then more.  It soon spread to southern Kentucky and beyond.  No one knew what to think about it.  The people were just...gone.   

Someone soon noticed there was arugula growing in every place a person had disappeared.  A few plants by a front door.  Several hidden beneath the weeds by a hiking trail.  Later, people noticed purple kale growing in some of those places as well. 

They had gotten smart.  They had gotten hungry.

The authorities got curious and dug up some of the plants.  It was horrible.  Bits of synthetic fibers, rubber soles from shoes and tiny bone fragments were found tangled within the roots.  No one knows to this day how they managed to dig the them up without becoming a part of the debris.  Especially now that we know how the plants fed themselves. 

You see, somehow what they were getting out of the ground wasn't enough anymore.  They needed more.  Somehow, both the arugula and kale developed facile roots.  They were certainly strong  enough to grab any passing animal, including humans, and drag them beneath the loose soil and feed on at their leisure.  It was no surprise when several horrified people in a local park caught them on film, on the move to their next feeding grounds.   

After that, the extermination program began.  The plants were attacked with extreme menace whenever they were found.  New plantings of arugula and kale were banned.  It was a hard fight and we almost lost.  Like I said, the arugula is very prolific.  The kale isn't far behind. 

So I've found some of the plants trying to hide in my garden.  I trapped them before they could feed on anything.  In my mind, turnabout is fair play and I'll eat as many of them as I can find...and keep them from spreading more seed throughout the county.

That's why I have to stay on top of harvest.