31 December, 2009

That dastardly Weasil

4 June 2005

R. Linda:

Last weekend Ton and I decided to stain the back deck. Now one of the people who volunteered to help was Mr. Weasil. In passing I mentioned to Mr. W that I had to hope it didn't rain because I needed to stain the deck at the back of me abode (which I should also mention, I decided to exercise me option to buy and so the place be ours). Mr. W being the ingenious and helpful fellow he is, said his friend Kurt had experience in deck staining and they'd lend a hand for a few brewskies. How could I refuse? Yours truly is allergic to manual labour and is certainly not one to refuse a few extra helping hands when it comes to such offers of free assistance. So, I said that was great, I'd buy us lunch and beers, and with that accepted, they both showed up bright and early Friday morning. Only it was beginning to rain.

I was dejected because I wanted to get the staining over and done with and who knew if the two volunteers would come back another day. I said to them that I'd buy brunch for us, but it looked like no deck staining. Never one to be defeated, Weasil (and I don't misspell weasel wrong, it is how HE spells it) told me to get meself off to the store for the deck stain, he'd have everything at the ready by the time I returned. I was not trusting him at all, but I went as bidden to the paint store thinking to get the stain anyway, and wondering if Weasil had some anti-rain dance he was performing while I be away.

When I came back the rain was coming down steadily. Instead of the few droplets that were doing their thing when I left, the deluge was upon us. However, to me bulging eyeballs surprise, there was a huge white tent over me deck, the kind you see at weddings. It seems Kurt is one of those people who set up tents for large outdoor festivities and this, according to Mr. W was one of those festivities. I had failed to notice they had arrived in Kurt's work truck.

Luckily, I had brought back hot coffee for all and a dozen donuts (yes, I knew the sugar rush would help), and once we had filled ourselves up on sugar and caffeine we started to paint.

By four that afternoon we were done with the large part of the deck. I will tell you it is rather a large deck, it starts from the Kitchen door all the way to the end of the house on the left, and then there is a boardwalk that winds in the other direction to a smaller deck where me bedroom be. There are French doors that open out onto it. Tonni takes her morning coffee out there and I was too pooped to do anymore than the boardwalk leading to that deck.

We went to the cellar to wash off the stain. Mr W had redwood stain on his hands and was making like he had just operated on some unfortunate person. While this laugh riot was going on we pretty much de-stained ourselves with mineral spirits and started washing up when Tonya came down. Now Kurt isn't the brightest (reminds me of cousin Sean A LOT), I found that out in the course of the day in general conversation, he knows how to do hard labourious work, but if he has to think, he can't do it.

So there we were downing cold ones before we went upstairs. Weasil looked at Kurt's massive forearms and said, "Lookie ya gots da measleses!"

"The what?" Kurt and I asked in unison.


To which Kurt and I looked at Kurt's arms and sure enough he looked like he had broken out in red bumps.

I moved away because I didn't want to get them and Weasil was grabbing one of Kurt's meaty arms and examining them. Kurt had gone beet red in the face over this and was quite concerned. Tonni was moving back along the wall and out the door because for sure she didn't want to catch anything. But suddenly she was bak hands on hips in the doorway, demanding to know why we didn't finish straining the "other deck" -- her deck.

Uh oh. I had no more strength left and poor Kurt was bewailing measles, but that prat Mr. Weasil stood tall and declared "I'll do it fer ya." I wanted to trip him for making me look bad. I was going to drag meself after him to help, but then it kicked in me excuse was poor sick Kurt.

I looked closely at the rash and realised it was paint spatter and Weasil knew it as well, the buffoon. Kurt wasn't come down with anything that mineral spirits couldn't handle. Oh the dilemma. Did I tell the upset Kurt he was just fine, and forfeit me freedom from staining, or did I carry on like he was really come down with the dreaded disease and enjoy doing nothing at Kurt's emotional distress. Oh what to do.

Well, I opted to keep the farce going even if Kurt's eyes were half mad with fear he had a sudden and severe case of a childhood disease, he had somehow escaped until now. He was rocking back and forth mumbling he'd go sterile and how his "package" would shrivel and be full of red pox. I did feel slightly guilty, but not enough to go wield a paintbrush.

Finally, I couldn't stand the ploy and I had timed it that Weasil would be near finished and yours truly was safe from the paintbrush. I feigned a closer look at Kurt's massive arms and told him to come with me. I said I thought I could treat the bumps and clear them up. Like a loyal dog he was right on me heels never having the sense to ask me how I was to perform this miracle cure.

I cleaned the lad up of his measles and he was near to kissing me feet that I had saved him from becoming childless and a member of the Viagra club. Well, we had got just to the kitchen to check out Ton's cooking when Mr. W came walking (well, hardly can be termed walking, more like a cowboy bowlegged squat) crouched down and hunched like a crab.

"Did ya finish there laddie?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," answered he.

"You all right Chris?" Tonnie asked seeing the lad walking almost double.

"I'm hard core," he replied to her brightly as he left for the cellar to cleanup, crab walking his way out of the room.

I will say never in me born days have I seen someone so "hard core" walking like they couldn't straighten up. I'm sure if we asked him he'd tell us he could do another entire deck because he was that hard core a tool man to do it. I knew he was pissed I didn't come to help, so he was doing this on purpose to make Tonya fuss over him, and make me look bad. But he had enjoyed his joke on Kurt, you had to know that.

And, he did make me look bad. Really bad. For the past week I overheard the praises sung of that Weasil. Just this very afternoon Tonni was telling a neighbour how "hard core and diligent the young lad" was. "Why I was extremely impressed with that young man and that he would work so hard when it wasn't even his deck. Why my own husband quit early. I'm sure the other kid would have kept on with Chris, but my husband told him he had a bad case of measles. Can you believe men and the lengths they will go to to get out of simple work? Lying to one another so they don't have to do anymore work than they feel they need to. That Chris, why he's number one in my book. I hope Gabe takes a page from him, and I hope one day we have a baby boy and it is just like Chris."

I wanted to shout to her why not name it Chris too? But I didn't. I slunked off to me corner to lick me wounds. Damn that Weasil seems to have a knack for making me look bad. I sat there muttering about him, calling him Walter because I think it fits him better his real name and Tonya (if she overheard me) wouldn't know who I was trashing.

Not only that, when he crab walked back into the kitchen for dinner that night, he was hunched over his food, like he had endured pain to finish the deck just for me wife. Begorrah! Me wife was ever so solicitous of his aches and pains, and I swear he was eating it up. Every once and a while I'd see his slitty eyes glance at me to see if I was taking in all the fussing by Tonya. I got it, it was payback for not getting me arse out there to help him.

When he was leaving, crab walking his way to the door he mumbled, "Gabe, ima yer wiufe's bestis boy righty now, ya gonner live dat downie err wot?" And then he laughed. I caught hold of him and said, "But laddie, you're hard core and you remember that not all of us are that way. Me, I'm a lover, so I get reward for YOUR labours. Have a good drive home, I thank you for your help, but most of all I hope you can't straighten up tomorrow by making me wife think you're so wonderful." I winked and sent him on his way.

The next day the phone rang, it was him.

"Gabe, tell yer wife I'm hard core. Hard core Gabe."

And he hung up laughing. He's been doing that all week. Says two words, "Hard core" and hangs up.

I hope he's still bent over because I want to catch him into Ali's fast Corvette and drop him at a gay bar in the worse way. How much you want to bet he straightens up real fast?

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