07 April 2016
Story #805
R. Linda:
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! It's 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 make sense of what I had 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 like a 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!"
After 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 sank deeper into me soon-to-be-savaged brain.
"WHAT?" I nearly shouted into 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.
"Aye, I did, we did!" He corrected.
That meant the sisters saw the demon child as well. Oh, I know, and I am sorry to say it, but you know that any spawn of Weasil's is not right in the head. Yes, I know I be making it worse. Still, you see, the daughter, Tasmania, is mad as a hatter and experiments on THINGS in the attic, and the other one, Maximillion, the eldest son, well, he be the spitting image of Leonardo DiCaprio until he smiles (demonically, I might add). 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. We all know we are not better off for the news. All I can do is move 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? Well, for that matter, their daughter Tasmania? Why not something presentable like Shakespeare? I have to wonder what it will be like to be brought up with that as a first name. 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 Weasilmans 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've never been given the chance to, so I'll 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.
Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
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! It's 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 make sense of what I had 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 like a 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!"
After 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 sank deeper into me soon-to-be-savaged brain.
"WHAT?" I nearly shouted into 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.
"Aye, I did, we did!" He corrected.
That meant the sisters saw the demon child as well. Oh, I know, and I am sorry to say it, but you know that any spawn of Weasil's is not right in the head. Yes, I know I be making it worse. Still, you see, the daughter, Tasmania, is mad as a hatter and experiments on THINGS in the attic, and the other one, Maximillion, the eldest son, well, he be the spitting image of Leonardo DiCaprio until he smiles (demonically, I might add). 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. We all know we are not better off for the news. All I can do is move 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? Well, for that matter, their daughter Tasmania? Why not something presentable like Shakespeare? I have to wonder what it will be like to be brought up with that as a first name. 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 Weasilmans 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've never been given the chance to, so I'll 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.
Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved
LMAO maybe weaz wants to surprise you? Maybe hestrying to create a snall village of deman seed. Could happen.
ReplyDeleteI thought I was bad LOL
Deletelol he did really? another weasil to beguile your stories gob, lmao
ReplyDeleteEver see village of the damned?
ReplyDeleteI don't think so and at this point no I won't be viewing it.
DeleteAre you getting yourself in trouble? I have heard of the exploits of the Weasil and do wonder why the criminally insane can walk about freely, but the bairn? Does the mother have any redeeming qualities that perhaps, just maybe, Dickens jr. will be an upstanding citizen? Just asking.
ReplyDeleteYou should babysit. I am sure your brood will show them a thing or two lol. The mind boggles Weas has three bairns? How old is he again???
ReplyDeleteHe looks 12 to me
Delete