One of my mother’s favorite things to say in times of crises is, “Oh no, Mr. Bill.” For those of you familiar with the old Saturday Night Live skit that featured the Claymation character Mr. Bill who was frequently flattened in a series of unfortunate events, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t seen Mr. Bill, check him out on YouTube, poor fella. Anyway.
We are always on a quest to find a toy that our dog Mae won’t destroy in five minutes. She loves toys, but she also finds deep joy in tearing them apart as fast as she can, and as delicately as she can. We’ve bought the “destruction proof” toys, only to find her with it five minutes later….deconstructed – and I swear she’s smiling.
Due to her amazing skill, Mae has been dubbed The Surgeon; Mae is quite the toy destructor she doesn’t tear holes in toys, she works much like a seam ripper and finds right where the invisible threads are, daintily chews them out, and removes what is inside the toy – the outside of the toy displays no injury. It is actually quite miraculous.
One day, Wyatt came home in a flurry completely excited to have found Mr. Bill at the local farm store. “Mom! You will NOT believe this, look! And it says he’s indestructible!” he said waving Mr. Bill. He was full of joy, and Mae was too. Her little hazel puppy eyes lit up with anticipation, she had been dared. Wyatt squeezed Mr. Bill and he yelled, “Oh, Noooooo!” We all laughed, Oh no, indeed, Mr. Bill. He was soon to meet a fate far worse than the one he knew from Saturday Night Live clips.
At first, Mae appeared to love Mr. Bill. She took fairly good care of him, carrying him around the house while he hollered, “Oh, nooooooo!” (which made me cackle). She would wag her tail, he would scream. It was delightful. Mae would take him outside to show the neighbors, but they didn’t seem to care, so then she would bring him back inside. They were best friends for two days. Then she decided she had absolutely had enough of him and needed to remove his voice box.
Only, Mr. Bill was apparently built tough. Mae had met her match. She tried and tried to delicately remove his voice box, and it was not working. It resulted in Mr. Bill saying “Oh, noooo” non-stop and Mae thought this was complete hooey. She grabbed Mr. Bill and ran outside with him in a huff, kind of like a “I’ll show you” expression, if a dog can make that expression.
Twenty minutes later, Mae came back inside with Mr. Bill, and he was quiet. She had a big grin on her face, and laid down with her trophy….a silent Mr. Bill. I have to admit that I was happy to be rid of the choruses of “Oh, noooo” that had been ringing throughout the house, until I heard something strange coming from the yard.
“Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no, Oh, no!” could be heard from somewhere off our back patio. It no longer sounded like Mr. Bill had before, but instead like a very concerned and anxiety ridden Mr. Bill who was late for work. “Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no, Oh, no!” was constant and continuous. I looked at Mae and I swear she returned my glare with a, “What?” glance. I walked out into the yard and for the life of me could NOT find the voice box. I could definitely hear it though.
Soon after that, Violet came home from fishing, walked into the house, and said, “I think Mr. Bill is in trouble somewhere in the yard.” Joe came home from work three hours later and the first thing he said was, “Has anyone thought about helping Mr. Bill?” The ultimate comment of the day was James with, “I’m going to shut my window. I can’t take it anymore. All I can hear is Mr. Bill.”
We scoured the yard for his voice box and COULD NOT find it. It was almost as if we were haunted by the voice of Mr. Bill. He had sought vengeance upon us for Mae’s destruction. Thankfully that night it rained and the wrath of Mr. Bill ended.
Last week, Wyatt called me from the farm store and asked if he should bring another Mr. Bill toy home. I hung up on him.