07 April 2016
I got a phone call, it went like this:
"Halo Gob! Itz Rubbie here."
There was silence on me end as me poor brain tried to process what I just heard. I got it after a few seconds, Hello Gabe! Its Robbie here. OK not great so I said, hello back and to what did I owe the honour.
"I ma here wit Clar and Rut me sisters."
Again, silence as I tried to interpret what I heard. I think it was I'm here with Claire and Ruth me sisters. I think that was it. So I would have said I never met Robbie's sissys but then if I said that I'd be in for a whole conversation about their lives BOTH OF THEM and really I hadn't the time nor the inclination. So instead I said, Hello Claire and Ruth. I felt the fool but I wasn't opening THAT door.
"We haf-tue tell yer arse thot our Weasil be a Da fur the third time ova. Yup numbuh three!"
Another few seconds it came to me, a prickly chill creeping up me spine as it began to sink in: We have to tell your arse that our Weasil be a Da for the third time over. Yes number three. Then a few more seconds as THAT bit of news sunk deeper into me soon to be savaged brain.
"WHAT?" I near shouted in the phone.
"Ay, he an Manda did it they haf-a new addition. Named the boyo Dickens."
No, I did not just hear that, no, no, no, they never did and no they did not. I asked if this was a joke and was told, "nah ha, no jape iz dis here as I say."
I must have moaned into the phone because he piped up with: "I saw the little tweezer in pierce-in."
Tweezer? What? Did he mean wheezer?
"You . . . you saw the new addition in person did you? Where are you?" I was curious to know how close I was to a Scottish invasion.
"Ay, I did, we did!" He corrected.
That meant the sisters saw the demon child as well. Oh I know and I am sorry to call it that, but you know any spawn of Weasil's be not right in the head. Yes, I know I be making it worse, but you know the daughter Tasmania is mad as a hatter and experiments on THINGS in the attic and the other one, the eldest son, well he be the spitting image of Leonardo DiCaprio until he smiles (demonically I might add) and you see where his sister has pulled AND knocked out most of his teeth!
"In Scootland, wherelse?" Robbie said, booting me back to reality. "I knew it was impotant you knoo."
"Thanks for the warning," I wanted to say but didn't. A simple thank you for thinking of me was the answer. Then the thought hit me and I voiced it out loud by asking when the Weasil was ever home long enough to make babies. That was answered by a laugh and a "Well Gob, now ye knoo the news so me and the gails moost git the shoe on the rude. See ya."
And that was that. He and the girls (sisters or no?) were getting the Scottish show on the road, so be it. We are all forewarned now that there is another Weasil in the world and we all know we are not better off for the news. All I can do is think of moving to the North Country maybe to Colebrook or forego New Hampshire and move to the North Kingdom of Vermont where he and his progeny will never find me. I be sorely tempted. I tried to talk me wife and Mam into that last night after getting the alert, but I didn't tell them why so it be a hard sell.
WHO in their right mind names their baby Dickens? Why not something presentable like Shakespeare? I have to wonder what being brought up with that as a first name will be like. Will this boy really be a dickens? Under Weasil's tutelage I be quite a bit certain of it. Geez!
I live in fear R. Linda, I really do that someday SOON the Weasilman's will appear on me doorstep with all three kiddos and they will ask me to babysit the bundle of joy. You know what that will do to me. You know I can't say no because I be never given the chance to, so I will be the guardian of Rosemary's baby and the problem with that is, they drop it off and never come back!
Gabe or Gob as the case may be.
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