Gayla, JR and I took a much needed weekend break from the cabin in the woods on the mountain. We had one more week to work, and we would be free from Helmet’s stench and strange behavior forever or until the next season. We all had PTSD from this experience; and we had bonded; but not in the loving way, in the necessity for survival way.
The reeking odor of freshly burned hair greeted us as we walked into the cabin. “What the F is that smell?!” I didn’t say F, I said the real F. It was a small cabin, a one room studio space with poor ventilation and we just drove over an hour into the heart of pine and country to smell something more rancid than Helmet’s 8 day unwashed body odor. It was also really cold, near freezing, so a fire in the wood burning stove was a necessity, and opening all the windows and doors would be almost as bad as putrid burned skin and fur. Helmet sat in her little chair with a smirk and continued cutting. “It’s the mouse, I threw him in the fire.” “You burned your totem animal?” “He was eating my food.” If she would have let Hobbit trap the mouse he would have walked down to the creek about a quarter of mile down the hill and freed it. I know the Hobbit. He is a total softy for animals. I’m not against killing mice in general, my cats do all the time. Mice are troublesome and poop on things, but why would she put the body in the fire? It blew my mind. She could have easily walked outside and threw the mouse anywhere on the 11+ acres Hobbit called home. She didn’t mind the smell, she probably liked it and was obviously very pleased with herself. One point Helmet, direct hit. By week three anyone who’s ever done this type of work knows this is crazy time. Clipper burnout is a real thing, and people lose their minds, even people that don’t have brains. I don’t know if it was the same day she burned Mickey Mouse, but it was sometime that week that Helmet completely whacked out. Helmet was still mad about the Dane Cook movie that we had watched the week before, and when we put in a new movie she turned angrily around in her chair and put in her headphones. Good, no one wanted to hear her butt licking, machine humping, Midget hating stories anyway. As we watched the movie and chatted amongst ourselves while cleaning, Helmet threw down her tray and yelled, “I’ve had it! I’m going to dance it off!” She said this angrily, as if we had somehow provoked her to this breaking point. Helmet stomped outside up the stone stairs to the large stage halfway up the hill that the church group, and prior owners had built for their meetings. It was a great wooden stage, made for ceremonial awards or the like. We had a perfect view from the cabin. “Did she say she was going to dance it off?” JR and I could not get our stupid phone video recorders to work without dying because we were so far in the woods with no service, our batteries pooped out immediately, and this is one of those times you REALLY NEED your phone, but ours failed us. Hobbit was gone, but I prayed he would come home to share the vision we witnessed. It seemed unfair that only the three of us should rubberneck the spectacle of Helmet having an angry break-dance party on the stage by herself. Picture Elaine from Seinfeld crossed with seizures and throw in some sort of “drop it like it’s hot” moves and there you have it. She was jerking spasmodically and twisting and turning with random floor moves thrown in with zero coordination and 100% WTF. None of us could hear the music she was dancing to, and that made it more strange if that is even possible. It was 10 minutes of the most bizarre show I have ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the “Hot Rod” running dance off in the woods scene, but this was really happening, and the comedy was lost in the awkward reality. Helmet came back down the hill and felt better. She probably hadn’t taken a break in the last 3 weeks of working and just lost her freaking mind. No biggie. We didn’t say anything to her, what could we say? Good moves? They weren’t. She really got us good, two points for Helmet. My brain is still boggled. I was leaving poor Gayla and JR with the weirdo for the evening as I did every weekday to cuddle my daughter at my mom’s and I teased Gayla as I left, “Don’t steal my big ones,” Helmet was suddenly very defensive and screamed something inaudible as I shut the door behind me. She couldn’t have been speaking to me in that tone, I assured myself as I jumped in my beat up piece of crap, taxi ride up the rabbit hole. We all knew she was acting really strange the last week on the hill but I didn’t think she would be that brave. Hobbit asked if Helmet said something, but we both knew it couldn’t have been important, and we left. Helmet followed us up the hill to get a ride back down with the Hobbit. It was going to rain or snow and her truck did not have 4 wheel drive which was necessary in those conditions. When I got out of Hobbit’s truck at the top of the hill on the dirt road in the middle of nowhere, National Forest and started walking toward my car Helmet got out of her truck and yelled at me, “You are lucky you are my friend or you wouldn’t even be here!” Hobbit’s face twisted in horror as he grabbed her and pushed her into his passenger seat, and drove away as fast as he could, looking back terrified I might chase them like the liquid metal "Terminator 3" chick. When her mouth popped off, the calculations I made from my fist to her face was “two-steps.” Two giant steps and she would have been drinking her teeth. I was stalled by the gall and slightly shocked that she had no idea that I come from a long line of crazy, bipolar violent lunatics. Normally I do not fight unless provoked but I have shaken a girls’ head like a ragdoll while simultaneously punching her boyfriend in the face hard. I have broken noses, fattened lips, and knocked teeth out and that's just junior high. In the county where I grew up we didn’t use knives or guns, we fought. Hobbit’s quick thinking saved her, and stunned I began to swell with rage. I drove to my mother’s house in a fury, and hurried to a landline phone to call my husband, Dan (no service mountains). “I almost punched that do-funny, moron idiot down the hill, I’m still shaking.” “Ann, why you want to punch a lee-tarded person?” My mother’s thick Thai accent interrupted me because she was eavesdropping on my conversation. She was right. I suddenly saw the light, and laughed. Why did I? It wouldn’t help. How many times had punching someone ever fixed them? Maybe a couple of times, but knocking her out wouldn’t help Helmet, my mom nailed it. The next morning I arrived on the top of the hill with a box of Starbucks coffee and junk food donut type treats for everyone, even nit-witted Helmet, because I had come to terms that the dip wad couldn’t be helped. Hobbit kissed my butt the whole way down the rabbit hole, “I thought you were going to punch her, I ripped her a new one all the way down the hill. She has no idea how crazy you are. I told her Anita punches people.” I reminded Hobbit that I had recommended he replace Helmet because she was unbearable to work with, using the fried mouse bones, odor and psycho dance off as evidence for my argument. I had spoken to him in private the year before suggesting he replace her with the midget, who was far more compatible with our crew, but he had already burned or humped that bridge. He constantly cut people off and ended friendships because he enjoyed his “The Shining” atmosphere on the mountain. He thought it was wonderful that Helmet had no brain, had no friends, never took breaks and also worked 12-17 hours days. Her work looked like dog crap, just my honest opinion. Hobbit knew me. We had been through some pretty horrid times (break ups, lost children, drug addiction) and we were good friends then. He was like a brother that I enjoyed torturing, but since Helmet arrived on the scene, our connection had started slowly unraveling. Hobbit was less friendly, moody and dark on most days. I just couldn’t wait until we were finished. When the job was complete Gayla decided to have a party to celebrate. It was a costume party, and Halloween. Somehow Helmet got wind of the gathering, and we didn’t see any harm in her coming, as it was a party, and I had forgiven her stupid mouth, remembering my mother's wise words. Helmet had moved into an apartment and was no longer living in my grannie house. I didn't know where she relocated, nor did I care. Helmet fashioned a Luchador costume and mask. It was a doozy. She called herself “Pinche Puta,” which could have been cool if it actually fit her body. It didn’t. Her belt was handmade, and it read, “No. 1 Pinche Puta.” The evil team that didn’t like Helmet, mainly Dan and Gayla, told her they were going to call her, “Helmet,” because of her outfit. She was pleased, as she always wanted a nickname. We had been calling her Helmet for over a year, but they were happy to finally say it out loud, as there had been a few slips. “I’m going to kick her ass and take that belt,” my sweet, drunk cousin, Sawittre threatened, because she honestly liked the style of it and wanted a trophy or party prize. Sawittre had recently been introduced to MMA and used to hang out with Urijah Faber (this was when he was reigning champion), because our uncle was his trainer, a Muay Thai master. Helmet looked frightened. It could have happened. It didn’t. I’m not sure if I’m happy or sad about that. Hobbit and I have since parted ways, and I don’t miss that creepy cabin. He did write me later and apologized for his strange behavior, but did not say why he began acting so strangely. Hobbit also mentioned that Helmet had ripped him off for equivalent to $30,000 worth of product. She must have been acting insane that day when I joked with Gayla about taking my big ones because Helmet WAS stealing. I had warned Hobbit not to trust her. Through the grapevine I heard she had heisted the same amount from another person I knew. 30 lbs. I had also warned that person about her character prior to her crime and actually declined a good paying position with him specifically because I refused to work with Helmet or anyone that associated with her. I was done. I had washed my hands of that stink. The moral of this story? You should always listen to me, because I’m smart. HA HA HA, I actually have no idea what the moral is besides be more careful about choosing the people you spend time with. Helmet is officially out of my head. THE END P.S. Helmet update: 10 years had passed I was working as a manager of a Thai restaurant in Auburn. I hired a part-time, really awesome, hardworking server who was also employed at Lifetouch… with Helmet. Napa only worked at the restaurant on Sundays. The second Sunday she came in and described a 2 hour drive with Helmet to a mobile photography job. "I hate her." Helmet apparently talked crap about me and Dan the whole way there and back. “I just met you and I already like you better than her.” “Did she tell you I threw beer on her?” “Yes!” It was water, and just a splash. “Did she tell you Dan smashed all her ceramics on purpose?” “Yes!” He paid her for them and it was an accident. “She also said you were cheating on your old boyfriend when you got together with Dan.” Whoa, back the conversation up. WHAT?! One time in 7th grade I kissed another boy when I had a boyfriend, but I told my boyfriend and broke up with him the next day. I had a really big crush on the boy I had kissed, but I felt awful about the whole situation. THAT is my only cheating story. My ex boyfriend chose meth and loose 18-year-olds over me, an old, boring 25 year old, about to graduate college with a $45,000 school loan. I never cheated. He said, “We need a break,” a day after he had taken 3 girls out clubbing and a day before he boned one of them. I was heart-broken and devastated. I literally fell apart after the break up of our 6-year relationship and also what I considered my first love. I watched my ex party and forsake everything we had built together. We had 2 houses, 2 cars, 2 dogs, 2 cats and 10 acres. I left with a bike. All I took was that bike. I did eventually get all the animals when they became troublesome to his lifestyle, a few weeks later. Napa threw me back with this terrible lie, about my cheating ways, and I did not expect a slap in the face from Helmet. At that very moment my ex’s little sister, who I have remained close with to this day walked into the restaurant. “Did I ever cheat on your brother?” I asked her to defend my honor in front of Napa. “No, but you should have.” I thank the powers above for that strange happenstance. I have no idea what happened to Helmet or the Hobbit. I could follow up with a "Where are they now?" but I wont.
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