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Therapist: Take me back to the beginning. Tell me how it all got started, how you eventually wound up holding the bloody knife in the aftermath of your killing spree. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. Killer: Well, Doc, it …...

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Filed Under on August 30th, 2011

A Reasonable Explanation

By Seth Kabala

Therapist: Take me back to the beginning. Tell me how it all got started, how you eventually wound up holding the bloody knife in the aftermath of your killing spree. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.

Killer: Well, Doc, it all started when I agreed to do a kitchen renovation. Everything was going along fine until I removed the cabinet where the dishwasher was supposed to go and discovered the idiots who lived there before us had routed a pipe into the empty space behind the cabinet. Then to top it off, when I ran water from all the sources upstairs to see which valve I needed to shut off so I could move the pipe, no water came through. It was just a worthless piece of plastic taking up space and making my brain swell, which I discovered later was the result of the sewer gases the pipe was venting, not so worthless after all, but by then I was already seeing red. I think it was precisely at that moment that all the knives in the kitchen started to look like beckoning super models, all saying, “Use me. Use me.”

With the bulk of my psychotherapy training received while watching “Saving Silverman” and “Analyze This,” I feel less than confident that a real therapist would take this tack to getting a patient to open up about their murderous actions. But with home-improvement projects going on all day every day all across this great land of ours that is plastered with horrible Home Depots, they surely have lots of subjects on which to practice, so this approach may have surfaced.

But the approach is irrelevant. What really matters is how I (the subject behind the colon, free, so far, of murder charges) ended up knee-deep in the shit of another home-improvement project after the following problems with my previous two homes: home #1, fire damage concealed behind plaster, three-years to finish, wished for an alien invasion to take me away many times.

Home #2, ok on the surface, but when you need to sell and the prospective buyer essentially wants you to sacrifice your first-born to make the deal go through (aka the new roof I’m STILL paying for), that sour taste in your mouth is evidence of shit rising.

But we men can’t be bothered by home-improvement fiascoes, failures, and futt-bucking by city inspectors. We believe that practice with power tools every two to three years is sufficient to achieve incarnation as the new Bob Villa, when we’re really standing waaay to close to a naked man–good ol’ Tim Taylor.

So I managed to move the sewer gas vent pipe while only experiencing the torrid (I’m sure they were pleasurable at the time) remnants of God knows how many post-Mexican-food bowel movements, and the dishwasher is now in and (knock) leak (on) free (wood).

My wife, Amy, told me once that the female body releases a hormone following birth that dulls the memory of the pain experienced during child birth. Otherwise, why would any women not involved in very, very deviant porno movies every want anything that big stretching things out down there again?

And they say men don’t understand the pain of childbirth. No, we do. At least temporarily. But there’s a reason why all the hardware store receipts disappear at the end of the project, simultaneous with needing to stock up on lighter fluid.

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Seth Kabala

About: Seth Kabala
Seth is an entrepreneur, writer, musician, family man, and juggler of balls--big ones. He lives with his wife and three children in Portland, OR.

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