No Matter How Old We Are -- Boys Will Be Boys (Weasil triumphs in the 'end')

19 June 2011

419

R. Linda:

I apologise ahead of reading this to all who may be sensitive to bare butts and fart jokes, BUT we are talking two drunken Scotsmen and I be not responsible for their behaviour such as it was. I only recorded the facts. Yup. ;-(

I told you Weasil was threatening to stop by and see me. I never got to catch you up on his visit because of the recent trips, so here goes.

Oi! Where to begin? I don't know exactly but I guess at the beginning be as good a place as any. SO a week ago (or was it more? Seems like yesterday), I be minding me own business, nose in me newspaper, in me very own kitchen, all by me lonesome when this great booming voice flew me to the ceiling. Out of nowhere, there stood Rabby Kincaid, and worse, his cohort in crime, the Weasil. The same Rabby Kincaid who gave me, me first shot of Laphroaig and almost put me in a brain coma as a result.

I had got me morning coffee in me hand, me newspaper spread nicely on me kitchen table before the shouting started. I had adjusted me paper and was sipping me java while perusing an article on Weinergate. I was content I was. That was until the unexpected voice sounded behind me and I flipped out of me chair, covered in hot joe and wet newsprint. Ee-yah. Just like that. The voice had said,  "Duz yer moothar knaw whutt yer dooin?"

After that explosion of unexpectedness and finding meself on the ground, a wee bit embarrassed me Mam would not be happy me reading about another man's 'weiner', and feeling like I got caught doing something terrible, I recognized Robby and thought of all people why is he HERE? I picked meself up because he wasn't helping, and shook his hand in a half-hearted, drippy welcome as Weasil came forward from behind Rabby's ample body. That skinny Weasil looking all weasely and laughing at me misfortune.

"Hyur a be, Gabriel?" Rabby asked not at all interested in me well-being.

"I be well. So Rabby (I pronounced his name like a Scot I did) how are you fairin' man?"

"Wull enuff." He smiled.

"Weasil," I acknowledged to a wave from the lad who was busy pouring two more cups of me precious joe, never mind the dripping mess on the floor. "So, wot brungs ya ta me?" I asked, hoping nothing had.

"Oh we wouz passin' by an Weaz suggested we zhow un up tae sea ouw yer aar."

"Well . . ." I said as I dabbed at me wet shirt with a paper towel. Oi, so much for me day of reading me paper on me off day off. We sat down to catch up. "So wot ya bean up ta?" I asked still wondering why they were at me abode.

"Wull Gabe, I got boooted oout a me job an I'm loouken fer an'oare." Rabby said cradling the cup in both hands.

"Ya did? Wow." I said, not knowing really what to say to that, except I did want to get up and dance around and sing, what comes around, goes around, but I didn't. You have to understand Rabby be a bully and what I heard about him, well I was surprised he HAD a job to begin with. So that he lost it did not come as any big surprise.

"I wuz hoopin' tae take ma mind oofin it ya knaw, so when Chris ere' suggested we stoop by an sea ya, I knoo tha be just wot I wuz needin'."

Oh boy.

"Well," I said with a shrug wondering when I got to be the Go To Guy and WHY. Strangely, the over-chattery Weasil wasn't saying a word and this got me wondering what the game was THIS time. There was silence all around and it was uncomfortable. Only later did I realise Weasil had reached his limits! I know, crazy huh? But he'd had two days of Rabby and was at the end of his rope.

"Hell Gabe, ya goot zumthin stronga then caffee?" Rabby asked.

I got up and got the scotch and three glasses. Yes, it was 10 a.m. and I was about to start drinking. I knew I was beaten, so I was about to join them. I poured the amber liquid and we raised our glasses and took a healthy slug. I left the open bottle on the table, I knew it would be gone and probably wouldn't be the only bottle drunk. Oi. As you can imagine, this drinking got well out of hand. Not only did we polish off three bottles of scotch the other two had started on the tequila and then found an old bottle of 100-proof Jamaican rum as the piece d' resistance. Oh my God, me head aches to think about it.

The conversation if you could call it such, turned to women and well, I was very glad it was Friday, and Tonya and the kiddos were not at home. If Tonya had been home, this probably never would have happened, but since she wasn't the conversation went forward.

"I juoost doon't git ma waife," Weasil started it, "she haz bin tryin' tae change me since she morried me."

"Ya gotta tell er' she cannae change a man less ee's in nappies!" Rabby expounded.

"Huh?" The inebriated Weasil asked, his body swaying in the chair, his eyes red, his mouth slackly hanging open -- wasn't pretty.

"Nevah let yer mind wanda, it's too wee tae be out aloone all on it's loonesom." Rabby laughed at Weasil who took exception to being told he had a small wandering mind.

I was looking at both of them (me being the least sodden of the three) with me brows in a straight line across me numb forehead, trying to keep up with the so-called conversation.

"Huh? Wot?" Weasil said as I started laughing. I couldn't help it, it was the look on Weasil's face he was being bested but he wasn't sure if he was, but thought so. For me, two Scottish dudes, drunk and arguing was a rarity so I was tuned in.

"I doon't wanna faight wi' ya Weasil, but yer nevah iver shoolda goot morried." Rabby shook his head then took a slug of the rum. "Ya wanna knaw the definition of a bachelor?" Rabby asked not waiting for an answer, "A man who missed the opportunity tae mak sum ooman missserable."

"Nah ha, thatz the definition of a morried man being made miserable by a ooman!" Weasil countered, finger in the air to make his point. "Luv iz blind BUT morriage iz a real eye opener!"

Uh oh, I thought. Here we go.

"Yeah an when ya wee darlin' wants a committed mon I say tae tell er' tae look fur em' in a mental hospital!" Rabby shouted, laughing so loud me ears hurt.

"Aar ye sayin' Ima mental deficient?" Weasil challenged.

Ooh, I thought, I don't think Rabby was thinking that, but I've always thought that, but I kept me pie-hole shut, I did.

As you can well imagine, this got them into a wee bit of a tiff it did. I actually thought they'd start slapping at each other, you know the limp wrist slapping? I sat there slugging down coffee shots hoping they wouldn't notice I was filling me shot glass from the coffee pot and not the liquor bottle. They didn't notice. This shouting match had taken on a life of its own and went on for a few minutes with Weasil sort of defending his woman, and Rabby the "bachelor for life" ripping her apart. Finally, I interrupted them with some stupid thing I can't remember what it was I said about me own apple-cheeked Mam and Da.

"Mi old mootha hadda way tae git ma faatha tae do sumthin he didn't wanna doo, she's tell em' he whuz too ould tae doo it an' of course that goot em' tae doo it," Rabby said. "Oomen! Ya cannae troost yer own mootha!"

But Weasil wasn't buying in, he was back at Rabby and now calling attention to the fact that Rabby had a fat arse.

"Are ya both crazy? You're arguing over stupid stuff!" I shouted over the din.

Oi! I got up and left them to drink themselves into oblivion while I went out into the fresh air of me backyard. I sat on me porch steps and rang up the wife to warn her what was occupying her house.

"Well, can't you sober them up and get them out of there before I come home? I don't want our children exposed to those two any more than it is humanly possible," Tonya said.

"I can't in all good faith put them behind the wheel of Weasil's souped-up Mustang to go out and make roadkill."

"Gabe, you never should have offered them the liquor."

OH so now it was me fault? She knew that if I didn't Weasil knew where it was and well . . .

"Tonya, I'll do me best," I said, thinking to avoid an all-out war with me own wife.

I hung up and sighed. I took a last swig of me now cold coffee and then went back in. Weasil was passed out cold, his head on the table, his chin propping his face up, his arms hanging straight down and the rest of him leaning forward to put all his weight on his neck and chin. Somehow I thought that looked painful, but he wasn't feeling a thing. Rabby was stretched back in his chair, head thrown back, mouth wide open snoring, his arms were straight down too, with legs stretched out straight. Oi! What to do? I stood there for a minute and then started cleaning up the mess thinking the noise would wake them. No, no such luck. I started to brew a fresh pot of joe in the hopes that once they awoke, I'd ply them with fresh coffee and sober them up.

I sat down and waited, and waited, and sighed, and waited. Weas was the first to open his eyes and blink.

"Ya might want to get your chin off the table before your neck gets really stiff," I suggested.

He blinked at me, "Wot?"

Oh God, I thought, he's just too gone. But then he started to move albeit a bit slow and stiff but he had himself upright in the chair. Painfully, he started to get himself up and holding onto the table, shut his eyes as I knew the room must be doing a dizzying spin.

"Don't shake your head whatever ya do," I said seeing that coming.

"OK," he croaked opening one eye than the other.

I poured him a large cup of joe and then guided him outside thinking the fresh air might help. I was going to sit him on one of the porch chairs, but he spied me hammock and pointed to it, saying, "Dere, we iz goin' dere." And with the cup of joe in one hand and me other around Weasil's back I guided him to the hammock when the thought struck me, that if the breeze swayed him in the hammie, he'd probably be sick. I started to say this to him in warning and because I didn't really want him in me precious hammie. But he wanted the hammock and that's where I deposited him.

I helped get his legs up and in and as he adjusted himself so he was semi upright to take the cup, I felt like a nurse's aid helping an invalid. He looked very comfy in me hammie and this made me not happy. I wanted him out and had this evil fleeting idea of dumping him, but I didn't. Instead, I left him for the other drunk. I had four hours to sober them up before Tonya and the kiddos got home. So much for me quiet, day to meself, day off. Wasn't happening.

I found Rabby awake, looking around with a scowl on his face wondering aloud, "Ware the fook am I?" When he saw me, it all came back to him with a, "Oh yeah."

Oi! I poured him the coffee as he asked, "Ware's tha booze at Gabriel?"

"You drank it Rabby, it be all gone," I said putting the cup in front of him.

"Whutt's zis? Caffee? I doon't wan noo caffee. Ere'," he said fishing for some bills he slid at me, "goo git sum scootch an whatt iver ye wans yersel."

"Uh no, I think drinkee time be over," I said pouring meself some coffee, secretly happy I wasn't doing his bidding.

He looked at the coffee with such disdain on his face I almost felt the guilty host.

"Hey, I have some leftover lamb, how about a lamb sanny?" I offered, thinking to get his mind off the hard stuff and maybe fill his ample belly.

"Mooton? Ye goot cold mooton doo ye? I cannae refuse sich as that! Ye goot grahvy?" His eyes were alight with gusto, so I got out some bread and sliced the cold lamb, heated the gravy, and made up a sanny for Weasil and meself as Rabby made himself one hell of a huge sanny. I took the one for Weasil out to him and found him snoozing in the hammie, the breeze gently rocking him and was about to put the sanny down on the table next to him when he piped up like he was half dead, "Plaise doon't leave daty dere or I'll be sick fer sure."

OK, so I took it away and went back in. I needn't have worried about wasting it, because Rabby let into it when I told him where Weasil was and that Weasil didn't want to partake of anything solid.

"Wull, wooldn't want tae waste goood mooton smooutered in grahvy. Only thin missin' woold be a batata."

"No, no tatties left," I sighed, wishing I was anywhere but where I was. I was subject to an hour of fart jokes and farts. Yes, Rabby was having himself a good time stinking up me kitchen. He ate most all the lamb off the bone, had rummaged around me fridge for whatever looked good to him and feasted while I watched. I didn't care at that time, me own brain was slowly recovering from intoxication, but as the hours got closer to me wife coming home, and me brain sobering, I did start to care that the leftovers we were going to have were gone! Me arse was toast, but Rabby was much more sober (not completely) than he had been. At one point he told me he was using me rest room and as he went out he farted and closed the door holding it so I couldn't open it to get out. What a kid! I was very unhappy so I went to a window took a breath and then headed for the backdoor and fresh air. When will these two grow up I wondered.

Weasil I noticed had drunk the coffee and was sleepily smoking a ciggie.

"You okay over there?" I asked.

He nodded, took a drag and let the cigarette arm drift to the ground as he closed his eyes, fighting off what I knew was one hell of a hangover.

Rabby came bounding out and instantly spied Weasil lying in me hammock seemingly asleep. Rubbing his hands together in glee, he put one finger to his lips at me in silence and then quietly crept over to Weasil. A still slightly drunk Rabby decided to moon the Weasil. Rabby was slow on this as he quietly undid his belt and positioned his fat arse in Weasil's face. Then softly giggling he unzipped his jeans and moved his ample butt up close and personal to the Weasil's head as he slid them down.  Because he was laughing and Weasil was wide awake, the Weasil was onto what Rabby had planned. Rabby's drunken idea was to moon AND fart in Weasil's face but Weasil was quick and put the unlit end of his ciggie in Rabby's butt hole. Well, I can tell ya Rabby won't be sitting down for at least a week.

Never in me life had I seen such a Scotsman run around, pants around his ankles, with a lighted cigarette up his arse as Rabby. He pranced around trying to reach it around his ample behind but couldn't. Weasil had slung his legs over the hammock and was doubled over in laughter, "Take a care dere Rabby yer will blow yersel up if ya fart," Weasil said wracked with laughter. I will admit it was pretty funny, especially when Weasil shouted to Rabby to "Drop an' roll, datty be da onlee way yer gonner git it out cuz I aint touchin yer big fat arse." And he did! He sat straight down and rolled the ciggie out burning his arsehole all at the same time. I almost felt bad for him, but Weasil remedied the situation by getting the hose and telling Rabby to get up as he hosed his smoking butt off. I dunno, and you wonder WHY I dread these Weasil visits. Well, this be why.

Gabe

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