'twas a lazy Sunday. Mr. Ruby and I were leisurely watching the Science Channel on the telly. Saw a coupla stories on exploring undersea shipwrecks and ancient Greek cities. Had we only known. <sigh>
Late this afternoon a moderate thunderstorm rolled through. Apparently there was a tornado in there because Mr. Ruby looked out the window and lo and behold, the grill was missing.
Missing. A whole gas grill. Missing.
A quick look to the left and we found the grill…in the bottom of the pool. In the deep end. The grill was sitting about 5’ from the edge of the pool and apparently a freak wind blew the damn thing over then into the pool.
I can’t even imagine the physics involved for this even to come to pass. The only other alternative is that the grill, who had recently been replaced by a new SuperGrill, decided to commit suicide.
Bright and early tomorrow morning, we’ll be diving in about 10’ of water to collect the fucking grill from the briney depths.
Sorry bout your grill committing suicide but hopefully its plunge won’t be fatal. Might I ask how you are planning on retriving the grill? Inflatable balloons, crane, trained dolphins?
You should follow the example set by Mythbusters and try to bring it to the surface using ping pong balls. Unfortunately, you’ll have to argue with your SO about how to get the ping pong balls down there, but it should work.
When I read “Underwater Exploration” I had just read the thread about flushing Korans, so I was thinking this must be a mission about retrieving something from a septic system.
Then I read “Bah-fucking-humbug” as “hamburgs.” This did not put an appetizing image in my brain.
Re-reading it eased my mind a little, so I wasn’t thinking about soggy burgers. Then you had to mention your entire grill going into the pool. Suddenly we’re back to unappetizing.
If I lived closer, I’d be happy to help you out. But you’d have to remove your soggy buns from the pool first.
Twas grilling in the briney pool
Did gyros and gumbo in the wave:
All flimsy were the hot dog buns,
And the storms wraths on the grate.
“Beware the Weber-wok, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the cajun bird, and shun
The deep end’s Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal spatula in hand:
Long time the chlorinated foe he sought –
So rested he by the blow-up ducky,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in catfish thought he stood,
The Weber-wok, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the Ruby pool,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal spatula went “time fer a-snack!”
He left it dead, and with its head
He went grilling on the back.
"And, has thou slain the Weber-wok?
Come to my arms, my cabana boy!
O shiska-bob day! Cajun! Filet!’
He chortled in his joy.
Twas grilling in the briney pool
Did gyros and gumbo in the wave:
All flimsy were the hot dog buns,
And the storms wraths on the grate.
YOU may think it’s mundane and pointless but I sure as hell, um, heck didn’t!
carnivorousplant got it mostly right.
A rope, a sober Mr. Ruby with a mask, and me to pull were the answer. It was wayyyy to early for beer. The only mess was the nasty charcoal briquette pieces that littered the entire pool. However, they were readily dispatched by the vacuum hose so all is well in the Ruby house tonight.
At least all was well until Mr. Ruby just erased his entire PDA accidentally. Poor guy. He’s not having a good week… and it’s only Monday.
)