29 January 2006
156
R. Linda:
Just when I thought life was returning to normal, I realised I have no normal in me life. No indeed. I do not. Like most people I think I be normal, but have decided there is something wrong with me because I seem to attract abnormal friends.
Take this weekend. There I be home enjoying the snow (that's a lie actually, I wasn't enjoying it, I was thinking about shoveling it later and that was not a particularly pleasant thought), pouring me a cup of morning java, beginning the wake-up process. Tonya was busy at the stove slamming pans together as she groggily began the Saturday breakfast routine of runny eggs, half cooked sausages and burnt toast.
I was not fully awake until I had a mouthful of burnt toast with boiling butter burning the insides of me mouth that I found meself fully awake. I sat there wiggling around in me chair, me eyes popping out of me head, trying to get me tongue out of the way of the sizzling lard, as me sainted wife inquired of me what was wrong "now?" As if there had been something wrong before. I tried to choke out that she was trying to kill me with burnt toast and hot butter, but the phone rang and she left to answer it.
There I was fumbling for the coffee I just poured, as she was focused on the phone conversation. I took a gulp of the black liquid to cool the fire in me mouth and found it was hotter than what I was choking on. It never is hot, it is always luke warm, but NO, when I need it to be that temperature, it wasn't. Murphy's law be damned! I rose from the table and put me head under the water faucet and turned on the cold tap to pour into me now scorched and smarting mouth, soothing cool water, only to find it was momentarily HOT from her rinsing out the fry pan. Talk about the luck of the Irish, well that luck had deserted me.
I ended up at the freezer trying to break free an ice cube but I couldn't get one out! Meanwhile, in the background of me pain induced consciousness, I thought I heard Tonya say that Weasil and wife were just up the road and dropping by so I should get meself dressed.
Finally, the water was cold in the sink where I left it running, and I plunged me burnt tongue under it to quell the intense pain. Tonya had disappeared to get dressed when I realised what had been said. Feeling slightly better, but realising I had blistered the inside of me mouth, I shut the water off and gave up on breakfast to get meself dressed and presentable.
I found much to me surprise that I couldn't talk. Me tongue had grown to the size of an Italian sausage and all that came out where mumbles. Tonya looked at me tongue and gasped which didn't make me feel any better. She actually insisted upon bandaging it with gauze because it was "a blistery mess and oozing."
I sat at the kitchen table, bandaged tongue protruding out of me mouth when there was a knock at the door. Tonya opened it, the cold chill blew in with Mrs. Weasil saying something in an excited tone. I was sitting nursing me mouth, chin in hand, tongue lolling out of the side of me face like a dog, drool accumulating on the napkin I had placed to catch it, not really paying much attention to the new arrivals.
But then I did notice the solcitious tone of me wife's voice towards Mr. Weasil. This caught me attention because I had got none of that when I was having me burnt tongue difficulty a few minutes before. I sat up straight in me chair to watch as Mrs. Weasil turned to guide her husband inside. He had his eyes closed and his hands outstretched as his wife and me own wife, told him there was a step up and take care he minded it. They led him into the kitchen as he shuffled forward.
I was astounded. They gently placed him across the table from me. Mrs. W was shucking off her coat and then her husband's as me wife went to pour them cups of coffee. I must have looked like an overheated Basset Hound with me tongue wiggling around, as I tried to ask what had happened to Weasil. Mrs. Weasil looked at me all concerned and understanding I must have suffered some "accident." She asked me in turn what happened, but I couldn't freaking talk! I shouldn't have worried because me lovely wife said, "Oh pay him no mind, he didn't let his food cool and stuffed it in his mouth and only burnt his tongue, the pig."
PIG? I ask you now. I think Tonya was still mad at me from the night before. I feel asleep during Dancing with the Stars, and had made some degrading comment about her favourite star, Master P's ineptness on the dance floor. OH WELL. What could I do? I could not defend meself at all, not at all. I could only sigh and look the buffoon in Mrs. W's pity-filled eyes.
What was wrong with Weasil, you want to know? Yes indeed, what was wrong with him besides the obvious he is a mental lunatic. I had to ask meself if this was another ploy on Weasil's part to gain wifely sympathy or more accurately, forgiveness of some joke he found funny at her expense and she did not. Or, was this a huge joke on yours truly, who of late had many things happen to make me look the hypochondric. Yes, me face was still feeling the effects of the sizing from those lilac scrubs. I had asked me wife NOT to give the Weasil any ammunition on that score and she promised me she wouldn't. OR . . . was it payback for that blind man stunt pulled at the mall? Neither Ton nor I expected Mr. and Mrs. Weasil to show up while me face was still bright red from me allergic reaction. And just as I thought this, Mrs. W said, "Oh my God, what happened to your husband's face?"
To which me wife blinked a couple of times thinking of a believable answer and me, not one for fakery looked intently at Weasil to see if his eyes would fly open. Only he had better control than I gave him credit, for not a lash moved.
"Well . . . Gabriel had some shell fish and found out he's allergic to shrimp."
Ok he didn't speak that in English, but I be not about to write in Weasilese all of THAT. I thought to meself, good Tonya. She stayed good to her word on the lilac scrubs and plunged on further with, "It comes and goes . . . the allergy."
Oh yeah I believe her. Yup, even better. It comes and goes, oh sure it does, just like clap.
Okay so there I was embarrassed and hurting and still I knew nothing of what was up with the Weasil.
I grabbed a napkin from the holder and picked up the pen we use for the shopping list. I wrote out me question and slid it to Mrs. Weasil. With a great sigh, and one last look at the silent and closed eyed Weasil, she began to explain the unexplainable.
"Oh my God, Gabriel. Friday night Chris came home late from being out with his radio pals at U Mass. He thought it would be funny to play a joke on me. He came in wearing sunglasses and was acting like he had too much to drink. When I took the glasses off his face, his eyeballs were red and white circles where the iris of the eye is supposed to be. He put in old contact lenses he used for some Halloween dress-up party he went to years ago. We had a couple of drinks and then a few more as he regaled me with radio pal stories and then we went to bed. Only my smart ass husband forgot he had the lenses in his eyes and went to bed with them in. Well, they were hard case lenses, not the soft ones you can sleep in. He got one out the next morning, but couldn't get the other one out. It was weird looking at him, one blue eye and then that red and white swirled eye. I told him to call the eye doctor to have them take it out because it was hurting him. I also said to try eye drops but that didn't work. So finally, he got a fingernail underneath it and ripped it out. Yeah he was screaming like a girl and jumping up and down, and yes, he ended up at the eye doctors. He tore the first layer of skin off his eye so he can't open it. It hurts doesn't it honey?"
No expression, no sound from Chris Weasil. Nope not even a whimper.
"So we have been going around with him shuffling with closed eyes and me directing him about steps and such." finished Mrs. W shaking her head in dismay and patting the poor misfortunate's arm in comfort.
Oh if only I was more fit, the fun I could have with him. BUT me face was bright red, me tongue was keeping me from saying one sarcastic word. You don't know how hard it was for me. I know what he did and to not be able to comment was like being tortured by ants! I wanted so much to get all the quips out, but I couldn't. I had to sit there drooling like a waterfall onto a soggy napkin, smiling me fool head off and NOTHING! NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING could yours truly say! DOESN'T IT JUST FIGURE?
Gabe
Copyright © 2006 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Just when I thought life was returning to normal, I realised I have no normal in me life. No indeed. I do not. Like most people I think I be normal, but have decided there is something wrong with me because I seem to attract abnormal friends.
Take this weekend. There I be home enjoying the snow (that's a lie actually, I wasn't enjoying it, I was thinking about shoveling it later and that was not a particularly pleasant thought), pouring me a cup of morning java, beginning the wake-up process. Tonya was busy at the stove slamming pans together as she groggily began the Saturday breakfast routine of runny eggs, half cooked sausages and burnt toast.
I was not fully awake until I had a mouthful of burnt toast with boiling butter burning the insides of me mouth that I found meself fully awake. I sat there wiggling around in me chair, me eyes popping out of me head, trying to get me tongue out of the way of the sizzling lard, as me sainted wife inquired of me what was wrong "now?" As if there had been something wrong before. I tried to choke out that she was trying to kill me with burnt toast and hot butter, but the phone rang and she left to answer it.
There I was fumbling for the coffee I just poured, as she was focused on the phone conversation. I took a gulp of the black liquid to cool the fire in me mouth and found it was hotter than what I was choking on. It never is hot, it is always luke warm, but NO, when I need it to be that temperature, it wasn't. Murphy's law be damned! I rose from the table and put me head under the water faucet and turned on the cold tap to pour into me now scorched and smarting mouth, soothing cool water, only to find it was momentarily HOT from her rinsing out the fry pan. Talk about the luck of the Irish, well that luck had deserted me.
I ended up at the freezer trying to break free an ice cube but I couldn't get one out! Meanwhile, in the background of me pain induced consciousness, I thought I heard Tonya say that Weasil and wife were just up the road and dropping by so I should get meself dressed.
Finally, the water was cold in the sink where I left it running, and I plunged me burnt tongue under it to quell the intense pain. Tonya had disappeared to get dressed when I realised what had been said. Feeling slightly better, but realising I had blistered the inside of me mouth, I shut the water off and gave up on breakfast to get meself dressed and presentable.
I found much to me surprise that I couldn't talk. Me tongue had grown to the size of an Italian sausage and all that came out where mumbles. Tonya looked at me tongue and gasped which didn't make me feel any better. She actually insisted upon bandaging it with gauze because it was "a blistery mess and oozing."
I sat at the kitchen table, bandaged tongue protruding out of me mouth when there was a knock at the door. Tonya opened it, the cold chill blew in with Mrs. Weasil saying something in an excited tone. I was sitting nursing me mouth, chin in hand, tongue lolling out of the side of me face like a dog, drool accumulating on the napkin I had placed to catch it, not really paying much attention to the new arrivals.
But then I did notice the solcitious tone of me wife's voice towards Mr. Weasil. This caught me attention because I had got none of that when I was having me burnt tongue difficulty a few minutes before. I sat up straight in me chair to watch as Mrs. Weasil turned to guide her husband inside. He had his eyes closed and his hands outstretched as his wife and me own wife, told him there was a step up and take care he minded it. They led him into the kitchen as he shuffled forward.
I was astounded. They gently placed him across the table from me. Mrs. W was shucking off her coat and then her husband's as me wife went to pour them cups of coffee. I must have looked like an overheated Basset Hound with me tongue wiggling around, as I tried to ask what had happened to Weasil. Mrs. Weasil looked at me all concerned and understanding I must have suffered some "accident." She asked me in turn what happened, but I couldn't freaking talk! I shouldn't have worried because me lovely wife said, "Oh pay him no mind, he didn't let his food cool and stuffed it in his mouth and only burnt his tongue, the pig."
PIG? I ask you now. I think Tonya was still mad at me from the night before. I feel asleep during Dancing with the Stars, and had made some degrading comment about her favourite star, Master P's ineptness on the dance floor. OH WELL. What could I do? I could not defend meself at all, not at all. I could only sigh and look the buffoon in Mrs. W's pity-filled eyes.
What was wrong with Weasil, you want to know? Yes indeed, what was wrong with him besides the obvious he is a mental lunatic. I had to ask meself if this was another ploy on Weasil's part to gain wifely sympathy or more accurately, forgiveness of some joke he found funny at her expense and she did not. Or, was this a huge joke on yours truly, who of late had many things happen to make me look the hypochondric. Yes, me face was still feeling the effects of the sizing from those lilac scrubs. I had asked me wife NOT to give the Weasil any ammunition on that score and she promised me she wouldn't. OR . . . was it payback for that blind man stunt pulled at the mall? Neither Ton nor I expected Mr. and Mrs. Weasil to show up while me face was still bright red from me allergic reaction. And just as I thought this, Mrs. W said, "Oh my God, what happened to your husband's face?"
To which me wife blinked a couple of times thinking of a believable answer and me, not one for fakery looked intently at Weasil to see if his eyes would fly open. Only he had better control than I gave him credit, for not a lash moved.
"Well . . . Gabriel had some shell fish and found out he's allergic to shrimp."
SHRIMP? I ate tons of the stuff at Mr. and Mrs. Weasil's wedding and I know they remembered because Weasil made a joke about me addiction to the wee crustaceans. Me eyes were wide in disbelief and I shook me head no, and tried to sound out the word shrimp and then crab, but failed. It sounded more like wimp and wab to which Weasil said "I always knew were a wimp, Gabe. That's not news. When did you develop this allergy to shrimp, you sure knocked them back at our reception like it was going out of style."
Ok he didn't speak that in English, but I be not about to write in Weasilese all of THAT. I thought to meself, good Tonya. She stayed good to her word on the lilac scrubs and plunged on further with, "It comes and goes . . . the allergy."
Oh yeah I believe her. Yup, even better. It comes and goes, oh sure it does, just like clap.
Okay so there I was embarrassed and hurting and still I knew nothing of what was up with the Weasil.
I grabbed a napkin from the holder and picked up the pen we use for the shopping list. I wrote out me question and slid it to Mrs. Weasil. With a great sigh, and one last look at the silent and closed eyed Weasil, she began to explain the unexplainable.
"Oh my God, Gabriel. Friday night Chris came home late from being out with his radio pals at U Mass. He thought it would be funny to play a joke on me. He came in wearing sunglasses and was acting like he had too much to drink. When I took the glasses off his face, his eyeballs were red and white circles where the iris of the eye is supposed to be. He put in old contact lenses he used for some Halloween dress-up party he went to years ago. We had a couple of drinks and then a few more as he regaled me with radio pal stories and then we went to bed. Only my smart ass husband forgot he had the lenses in his eyes and went to bed with them in. Well, they were hard case lenses, not the soft ones you can sleep in. He got one out the next morning, but couldn't get the other one out. It was weird looking at him, one blue eye and then that red and white swirled eye. I told him to call the eye doctor to have them take it out because it was hurting him. I also said to try eye drops but that didn't work. So finally, he got a fingernail underneath it and ripped it out. Yeah he was screaming like a girl and jumping up and down, and yes, he ended up at the eye doctors. He tore the first layer of skin off his eye so he can't open it. It hurts doesn't it honey?"
No expression, no sound from Chris Weasil. Nope not even a whimper.
"So we have been going around with him shuffling with closed eyes and me directing him about steps and such." finished Mrs. W shaking her head in dismay and patting the poor misfortunate's arm in comfort.
Oh if only I was more fit, the fun I could have with him. BUT me face was bright red, me tongue was keeping me from saying one sarcastic word. You don't know how hard it was for me. I know what he did and to not be able to comment was like being tortured by ants! I wanted so much to get all the quips out, but I couldn't. I had to sit there drooling like a waterfall onto a soggy napkin, smiling me fool head off and NOTHING! NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING could yours truly say! DOESN'T IT JUST FIGURE?
Gabe
Copyright © 2006 All rights reserved
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