Home > My Name is Mike Squatch > My Name is Mike Squatch

My Name is Mike Squatch

December 16, 2014 Leave a comment Go to comments
By Mike Squatch

By Mike Squatch

Architectural Correspondent

My name is Mike Squatch. I am an architect. I designed Vitiello Decorative Hams Arena.

I have three boys. A few years back, I lost my wife in an incident that still is being investigated. A few days later, I was hanging around the bus station when I met Sally. She was a perky little blonde wearing a fine pantsuit and after several months of dating, crying and shame, we were married. Sally has three girls. Her husband hanged himself in their garage.

Here I am at work in my studio. We love Lankville.

Here I am at work in my studio. We love Lankville.

We all moved into a house of my own design in the Lankville Sun Belt. It’s a fine split-level with a grand but streamlined staircase and wall-to-wall carpeting in pale yellows and greens. At first, we hired a male maid of my choosing but Sally ultimately dismissed him in favor of an unattractive little spitfire named Miss Grubers. Miss Grubers really keeps us all in line, I’ll say that for sure.

We have many little light entertainments to tell you about. There was the time that my oldest son Kirk decided to put in privacy hedges. I encouraged this but at the same time was leery. Sure enough, the hedges did not grow at all because Kirk had not used any peat. What are you going to do? These kids! We love Lankville.

Then there was the time that Sally’s youngest daughter Vera ripped her new pants and tried to repair them herself using hog wire. What a caper! Fortunately, Miss Grubers saw her trying to go off to school with the wire piercing her thighs. Miss Grubers really keeps us in stitches, you know. We love Lankville.

Mr. Vitiello and I have a close relationship. I admit to several intentional errors during the construction of the arena. For one, there is a vacuum in parts of the upper deck. Additionally, we installed a series of heat pumps that were designed to lapse into sudden, unannounced states of vapor lock. Thus far, though, Mr. Vitiello has not whipped me. I have seen him remove the top of his gold bourbon flask (the top is decorated with a little red glass decorative ham, the color of a ruby) and I have seen him remove the whip in my presence. And I have even asked, “Are you going to whip me?” to which he merely says, “that depends”. Nothing further has happened.

I also intentionally fall asleep on the sofa in my den. Sally wakes me up though.

We are married.

  1. No comments yet.
  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s