Wolfie's Misadventures With The Ever-Surprising Weasil

28 October 2026

2032

R. Linda:

I found Wolfie's rendition of a shock Weasil visit rather hilarious. Usually, these things happen to me, so I take great joy in them happening to someone else. Not only can we commiserate about the horror of such a visit, but we can sometimes get advice on how to avoid another surprise Weasil appearance.

Not only did the Wolf have to deal with two unwanted donkeys dumped at his abode in Northern Ireland (see Story #2020 So They Say, 21 October 2026), but recently he also had a plane ride and subsequent drive to Cambridge with an unwanted guest. Yes, you didn't even have to guess; it was the Weasil. 

The plane ride was one shocker, but the drive was quite another matter. One, the Wolf hopes that if he's "encumbered" with the Weasil again for a drive, he will experience what he did from Heathrow to Cambridge. The plane ride? Not so much.

Let me begin at, where else? The beginning.

Wolfie had been in Maine, closing on his property he sold. He booked a flight from Boston's Logan Airport to London. Once in London, he would drive to Cambridge for a wedding he was invited to. Sadly, Wolfie had no idea the young whippersnapper was in Boston and had booked the same flight. Actually, the seat next to Wolfie's.

Wolfie, being a "professional" traveller, knew to arrive early for the flight. He killed time in the Amex Global Lounge until boarding. He had no clue who his seatmate was. He might have if Weasil had arrived early. Weasil frequents the lounge, but here's the rub: Weasil is always late, and he was this time, too. So, as the flight boarded, Wolfie already had a whisky in hand, and coach boarding was underway; at the back of the plane, you could hear a flight attendant trying to get a first-class passenger out of that mix and to the front. 

Not in Wolfie's wildest dreams did he think the latecomer was one Chris Weasil. No, no, there was one empty aisle seat next to the Wolf, and well, guess who plopped down next to him? Yes, that's right, the nightmare seatmate, the Weasil.

Weasil was as surprised to see Wolfie as he was to see him. Weasil's mouth dropped to the floor in delight, while the Wolf rolled his eyes, threw his head back against the seat and hoped to go into cardiac arrest and die.

I tell ya! Life had been going too smoothly for the Wolf. He should have known it wouldn't last. With two donkeys dumped at his home in Northern Ireland, the long flight to London, and the long drive to Cambridge, he suddenly felt doomed. 

He was not ready for the constant chatter about crazy subjects that the Weasil is wont to chatter on about incessantly. He also knew there wasn't enough whisky to dull his senses into insensibility, and he needed to be sober to drive once he got into London. Therefore, stone sober, he had to put up with a torture worse than finding your headphones don't work, and you are stuck with the talker for seven and a half hours, no place to go, and you have no parachute.

Somehow, and he doesn't remember how (it's all a blur now), he listened to stuff like this:

Weasil: I could use a wee bickie to go wit me bits and bobs an' a wee top off righty nowie.

In Weasilese, this means the hungry and thirsty Weas could use a biscuit with his planeride dinner and have his drink topped off at the same time. Why tell Wolfie this? Why not the flight attendant? Who knows?

But this is a small sample of what the Wolf had to put up with. Until he was told something incomprehensible and answered Weasil with this, which stunned the Weasil into silence for a whole two minutes: 

Wolfie: Um, I'm sure it's pure logic informed by extensive analysis of the available data sets. 

After a two-minute lull, Weasil came back with: "Ya soundie like me daddy man."

Weasil's father was a lexicon of an editor for a huge publishing house in London, or he was, until he retired some years ago. The man must climb walls when his son opens his mouth. 

Anyway, Weasil asked Wolf where in London he was headed, and Wolfie reluctantly told him he wasn't staying in London; he was going to a wedding in Cambridge. This sparked Weasil's attention, and he asked whose wedding. When told, the surprise was back on Wolfie that it was the same wedding Weasil was attending. They should go together! 

I almost feel sorry for the Wolf.

Can't you just feel the murder oozing from Wolfie?

So, Wolf goes to the car rental, Weasil on his heels chattering like a magpie, and once in the motor, they set off. With Weasil going on and on, the Wolf somehow keeps his concentration, gets them out of Heathrow, and onto the road to Cambridge. He noticed the Weasil wasn't saying anything, and a silent Weasil was cause for concern. Glancing at the young whippersnapper, he noticed his open mouth, heard the snoring, and realised jet lag had taken over. Glorious peace reigned, and the Wolf held onto his sanity, letting his frustration at an intolerable situation dissipate. 

All the way to Cambridge they went. The only sound was the snoring of the Weas and the whizzing motors on the highway. This left Wolfie with a vivid imagination of what he could do with the Weasil. 

Thought #1: Dump him in a culvert on the side of the road and roar away 

Thought #2: Empty his suitcase, stick him inside and drop him off at the nearest constable's station.

Thought #3: Wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze.

Thought #4: Drop him off in Oxford and tell him he's in Cambridge. Tell him you are parking the car and will be right back, but you don't come back. 

I know dastardly thoughts all. But Weas can drive one to professional alcoholism and semi-pro crazy person if you let him. I did ask if there was any lasting trauma, or just stories for the pub. Wolfie was non-committal.

However, as delicious as those thoughts were to the Wolf, he did get the Weas to the wedding, and then he made sure he disappeared in crowds every time the Weasil spied his "goodly friendie, da Wolf."

Gabe

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