13 April 2013
Story #657
R. Linda:
I did what I knew not to do. I tried this rather spicy Thai dish, and the entire time I was chowing down on it, I could hear your voice in the back of me mind saying, "See there you go! Doing exactly what I warned you not to: eat spicy food before bed. Geez, you are a handful!"
But despite that or to spite it, I ate the whole thing, the sound of me munching blotting out your voice until I had polished it off. Yes, I did. I sat there grinning but not for long, the heat in me tum was starting to permeate me entire frame. I sat there feeling it, looking to see if I had any ice water left, when the grin was wiped off and the panic set in. Me entire gullet was burning! I signalled the waiter who came over and refilled me glass, not once, not twice, but three times!
Tonya said, "I don't know why you do that to yourself, Gabriel. I truly don't. You know, eating spicy food always does that. You will pay for the pleasure for the next two days, mark my words."
Not wanting to prove her right, I acted like everything was just fine. As a matter of fact, the entire drive back to our abode, I was secretly dying for water, anything to put out the fire. Once inside our happy home, when Tonya's back was turned, I ran for the kitchen sink. I knew there was nothing cold in the fridge, and the burning was too great for me to stop and get a glass, so I turned on the faucet and gulped down the water straight from the tap. But I was caught by Tonya getting me a glass (and not just any glass, an ice cream soda glass), putting ice cubes in it and then shoving me aside from the sink to fill it. She handed it to me, her eyes knowing slits in her head. I was cowed I was, I slinked off with me giant glass of water and sat sipping it through the 11 o'clock news.
By the time I lay down for some sleep, I felt pretty drowsy and exhausted. I was so knackered from me panic that I fell into a dream right away.
I was on a stroll with me dog, but it wasn't me dog it was a Doberman Pinscher (an animal I'd never owned but I think now to meself, it represented me fiery tum). And as I walked down the street, I met YOU with your little Chihuahua. This image of you with a dog (never mind what kind of dog) had me feeling the fire again. I said to you, "I need a drink."
But I didn't mean the kind you thought, because alcohol would only make the fire worse, but YOU decided to ignore me explanations and walked over to a bar.
"Let's go in here and get you all fixed up," you said.
"That's like putting fuel on the fire. I need water, agua."
"They have WATER in there." You pointed out. "There are no other WATERING HOLES around."
"Well, we can't have dogs with us. Dogs are not allowed; this isn't England."
"Ok, I have an idea," you said, getting exasperated with me logic.
"I hate when you have ideas, they never are good for ME," I whined.
"Shush, just listen. Give me your dog. Come on, hand it over, and take mine," you said, grabbing my leash and giving me yours.
"Stop a moment. Do you know how ridiculous I look holding a Chihuahua?" I said.
"No more than usual," you said, putting on a pair of sunglasses and handing me a pair. You began to turn away with the Doberman. "Put those on," you ordered, turning slightly and then throwing over your shoulder this gem: "Watch what I do, and you do it too. " And to the bar door you went, where there was a large bouncer standing.
You started to walk right in when the bouncer said, "Sorry there lady, no pets allowed."
"You don't understand, kind sir. THIS is my seeing-eye dog, " you said, looking five feet in the wrong direction, like you couldn't see him.
"Wait, wait, wait, a Doberman as a seeing-eye dog?" The man snorted in disbelief.
"Why yes, they're using them now, there is a shortage of those big dogs . . . what do you call 'em? Anyway, these Dobies are very good."
The guy looked from you to the dog, then shrugged and told you to go through.
Ha! I thought, easy-peasy, until I realised I did not have a big dog. I was so thirsty and on fire, I was desperate to get a glass of cold water. I knew this would be difficult, trying to convince the big bruiser that a Chihuahua was a seeing-eye dog.
"Oh, what the hell?" I said, adjusting the dark glasses. I began to walk unsteadily, as if I couldn't see two feet in front of me toward the door. I made it seem like I didn't know anyone was standing there and started to walk inside.
"Sorry, fella, no pets allowed," the bouncer said.
"Oh, sorry," I said, "but you don't understand. This be me, seeing-eye dog."
The man laughed. "A Chihuahua?"
I made a face of surprise, me mouth dropping open.
"A Chihuahua? THEY gave ME a fecking Chihuahua?!" I said to him, looking above his head.
Well, the expression on his face was priceless. He didn't know what to say. He looked at the over-six-foot-tall Irish guy and then at the 6" tall Chihuahua, and he sighed.
"Ok." He croaked, and I shuffled inside.
It was then I woke up! I sat up in bed, the fire in me belly roaring. Grumbling, I forced meself from me cosy bed to get a drink of water. As I gulped down me third glass, I noticed the picture of a Chihuahua in a sombrero on the sink top. O'Hare had left it there to dry for a school project he had on Cinco de Mayo. The paste had been wet where he had glued the sombrero on the dog's head, and I had seen it earlier before I went to bed. On the other side of the sink, also pasted-drying was a picture of a Doberman with a Nazi helmet that no other than Guido had put together not to be outdone. That had to be what influenced me dream! I tell ya!
So go ahead and rub it in. I did the stupid spicy thing again and paid for it. I heard you the entire time I was partaking of the fiery dish, and then to go home with you in me head and the subconscious pictures sitting where I tanked up on cold water . . . Well, a dream was in order, or more like a spicy hot doggy nightmare starring you and me. Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I did what I knew not to do. I tried this rather spicy Thai dish, and the entire time I was chowing down on it, I could hear your voice in the back of me mind saying, "See there you go! Doing exactly what I warned you not to: eat spicy food before bed. Geez, you are a handful!"
But despite that or to spite it, I ate the whole thing, the sound of me munching blotting out your voice until I had polished it off. Yes, I did. I sat there grinning but not for long, the heat in me tum was starting to permeate me entire frame. I sat there feeling it, looking to see if I had any ice water left, when the grin was wiped off and the panic set in. Me entire gullet was burning! I signalled the waiter who came over and refilled me glass, not once, not twice, but three times!
Tonya said, "I don't know why you do that to yourself, Gabriel. I truly don't. You know, eating spicy food always does that. You will pay for the pleasure for the next two days, mark my words."
Not wanting to prove her right, I acted like everything was just fine. As a matter of fact, the entire drive back to our abode, I was secretly dying for water, anything to put out the fire. Once inside our happy home, when Tonya's back was turned, I ran for the kitchen sink. I knew there was nothing cold in the fridge, and the burning was too great for me to stop and get a glass, so I turned on the faucet and gulped down the water straight from the tap. But I was caught by Tonya getting me a glass (and not just any glass, an ice cream soda glass), putting ice cubes in it and then shoving me aside from the sink to fill it. She handed it to me, her eyes knowing slits in her head. I was cowed I was, I slinked off with me giant glass of water and sat sipping it through the 11 o'clock news.
By the time I lay down for some sleep, I felt pretty drowsy and exhausted. I was so knackered from me panic that I fell into a dream right away.
I was on a stroll with me dog, but it wasn't me dog it was a Doberman Pinscher (an animal I'd never owned but I think now to meself, it represented me fiery tum). And as I walked down the street, I met YOU with your little Chihuahua. This image of you with a dog (never mind what kind of dog) had me feeling the fire again. I said to you, "I need a drink."
But I didn't mean the kind you thought, because alcohol would only make the fire worse, but YOU decided to ignore me explanations and walked over to a bar.
"Let's go in here and get you all fixed up," you said.
"That's like putting fuel on the fire. I need water, agua."
"They have WATER in there." You pointed out. "There are no other WATERING HOLES around."
"Well, we can't have dogs with us. Dogs are not allowed; this isn't England."
"Ok, I have an idea," you said, getting exasperated with me logic.
"I hate when you have ideas, they never are good for ME," I whined.
"Shush, just listen. Give me your dog. Come on, hand it over, and take mine," you said, grabbing my leash and giving me yours.
"Stop a moment. Do you know how ridiculous I look holding a Chihuahua?" I said.
"No more than usual," you said, putting on a pair of sunglasses and handing me a pair. You began to turn away with the Doberman. "Put those on," you ordered, turning slightly and then throwing over your shoulder this gem: "Watch what I do, and you do it too. " And to the bar door you went, where there was a large bouncer standing.
You started to walk right in when the bouncer said, "Sorry there lady, no pets allowed."
"You don't understand, kind sir. THIS is my seeing-eye dog, " you said, looking five feet in the wrong direction, like you couldn't see him.
"Wait, wait, wait, a Doberman as a seeing-eye dog?" The man snorted in disbelief.
"Why yes, they're using them now, there is a shortage of those big dogs . . . what do you call 'em? Anyway, these Dobies are very good."
The guy looked from you to the dog, then shrugged and told you to go through.
Ha! I thought, easy-peasy, until I realised I did not have a big dog. I was so thirsty and on fire, I was desperate to get a glass of cold water. I knew this would be difficult, trying to convince the big bruiser that a Chihuahua was a seeing-eye dog.
"Oh, what the hell?" I said, adjusting the dark glasses. I began to walk unsteadily, as if I couldn't see two feet in front of me toward the door. I made it seem like I didn't know anyone was standing there and started to walk inside.
"Sorry, fella, no pets allowed," the bouncer said.
"Oh, sorry," I said, "but you don't understand. This be me, seeing-eye dog."
The man laughed. "A Chihuahua?"
I made a face of surprise, me mouth dropping open.
"A Chihuahua? THEY gave ME a fecking Chihuahua?!" I said to him, looking above his head.
Well, the expression on his face was priceless. He didn't know what to say. He looked at the over-six-foot-tall Irish guy and then at the 6" tall Chihuahua, and he sighed.
"Ok." He croaked, and I shuffled inside.
It was then I woke up! I sat up in bed, the fire in me belly roaring. Grumbling, I forced meself from me cosy bed to get a drink of water. As I gulped down me third glass, I noticed the picture of a Chihuahua in a sombrero on the sink top. O'Hare had left it there to dry for a school project he had on Cinco de Mayo. The paste had been wet where he had glued the sombrero on the dog's head, and I had seen it earlier before I went to bed. On the other side of the sink, also pasted-drying was a picture of a Doberman with a Nazi helmet that no other than Guido had put together not to be outdone. That had to be what influenced me dream! I tell ya!
So go ahead and rub it in. I did the stupid spicy thing again and paid for it. I heard you the entire time I was partaking of the fiery dish, and then to go home with you in me head and the subconscious pictures sitting where I tanked up on cold water . . . Well, a dream was in order, or more like a spicy hot doggy nightmare starring you and me. Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
loved, loved, loved this story but the funniest line - the doberman wearing the helmet - so unexpected. only your tough guy son would think of that, lmao
ReplyDeleteCappy, I had a Chihuahua once ... no that's not right, I had an undead monkey once ... never mind. I thoroughly enjoyed your tale of fiery bellies (been there done that - often) and for all the wenches of this blog I'm still enjoying life as a male chauvinist pirate. Arghhhhhhhh!
ReplyDeleteROFLMAO the only way I can see you with a chihuahua, nightmare or no, is stuck on the bottom of your shoe! LOL and yes, how many times have I told you NO SPICY FOOD...LOL
ReplyDelete