Showing posts with label A bad mix. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A bad mix. Show all posts

06 August, 2011

Revenge may be wicked, but it's natural - part 1

05 August 2011
438

R. Linda:

They say things happen in threes. Well, I be here to attest it does. Let's start with the first two. First came Dragon bright and early yesterday morning (I was at work, so I had no clue). She was returning from a mini holiday in Bar Harbor, Maine and decided to stop here on her way back to Jersey. The husband went back home because he had things to do, but Dragon, I supposed, wanted to make sure me summer wasn't Dragon free, but then I had just seen her in Amsterdam, so what's the deal? To see the kiddos was the deal.

I go home completely unaware to find the Dragon ensconced on me couch, a kiddo on each side munching on Caramel popcorn or something aptly called Poppycock. Yup. Between you and I, R. Linda, I think me wife is trying to kill me. Give me heart failure because that's what happens when ME, unaware, walks into me familiar abode to be stricken, yes stricken with the sight of the Dragon in me own home!

Once over the shock and after ten minutes, me speech returned (yes, I was struck dumb; if only blind, that would have been better), and I croaked out a quick hello and off into the kitchen I went to find the wife busy making dinner. We pantomimed our communication so as not to be overheard. Well, I was stuck, stuck with an unscheduled Dragon visit that me wife swears she had no prior knowledge would be taking place. I parodied her picking up a telephone to warn me but it was like she had no time. OK.

Today be me day off. It just figures, doesn't it? A whole day with the Dragon. It started like this, the telly was on the morning news and the announcer was introducing a story when Dragon came flying in and said, "What's this about a man with dirty ears?"

"No, Mom, it's a story about a man with thirty years experience in law enforcement," Tonya corrected gently.

"Oh," says the Dragon. After that story, the announcer was on to another story. Dragon had gone out to get her sweater, and she came back saying, "WHAT is this about a man without a dress?"

"No, Mom it's a story about a homeless man without an address." Tonya corrected AGAIN.

Is this how it is going to be? I thought to myself. So here we go, off to a great start. Not only can the Dragon not see to save her life, but she can't hear either. I was beside myself because the day had only just started. Tonya was off to work, and the kiddos were off from school to spend the entire day with Granny Dragon, and that meant no hammock time for me. Sigh.

Tonya had left, and it wasn't ten minutes later there was a knock on the door, and who was out there? WEASIL. I was like can this day get any worse? Well, yeah, it did. Now, Dragon and Weasil have never met, so I was apprehensive, to say the least. This would be like oil meeting vinegar or laxatives and sleeping pills! Seems Mr. Weasil was in the vicinity and decided to "droppy in a sea me oldest and besty friendie Gabie."

Now you and I know how Weasil talks. He can use computer lingo as speech, or he can drift back into that Scottish burr or not.

"Chris, for the sake of me sanity, would you not use the computerese. It's bad enough the old bat can't hear in American English; she will be questioning both of us, and it will destroy what is left of my mind," I said aside to him.

"Okie dokie," he said and put on a big smile, which made me very nervous. We walked into the lounge, and there she was in her usual place, the two boyos on either side munching on more sugary junk.

"Mother Abdullah, I'd like to introduce me friend Chris Weasil," I said brightly.

"Weasel?" She looked him up and down as if she expected to see razor-sharp teeth and a tail.

"By Jove!" he said, walking towards her, his hand held out in greeting, "Gabie, you nevah told me you had sich a lookah in yer fumily, 'ello madame."

She shook his hand and blushed, murmuring, "How do you do?" back at his smiling countenance. he turned to me and said, "Monstrous nice woman, 'pon my honour."

I stood there, me eyes wide at this display. I don't know what I said, but I could see Dragon was eating it all up.

"Oh, YOU must be English, such manners," she said, all bashful. YES, the Dragon was getting bashful. I never thought in a million years I'd live to see the day THAT would ever happen. I craned me neck to look at her in amazement.

"No, madame, I am Scottish by birth," he said with a toothy grin.

"Oh, beg your pardon," she said, slightly embarrassed, "I didn't mean to insult you."

"Nawt a bit," he said with all the charm of a . . . of a Wolfie. I was flabbergasted and unsure what was going on, and the transformation of both of them had me.

"Now, my son-in-law there is not enjoying our little visit. I can tell by the look on his face," she said looking past Weasil at me.

"Nuffle your clod, and beladle your glumbanions!" He exclaimed, staring at me with a startled look. Dragon, too, was startled because she wasn't at all sure what he had just said. Well, me either.

"Em . . . Chris. would you like some coffee, or have you eaten?" I asked, not knowing quite what to do.

"Ees." He said and took off for the kitchen, me on his heels. As soon as we were in the other room, he said loud enough she could hear, "I say, and by Jove, she's a neat old filly!" To which I saw her twitter. Yes, R. Linda, she twittered.

"Wot are ya doin man?" I hissed at him, rattling the cups and saucers so she couldn't overhear.

"Bein' nice."

"YOU nice? Ah, I don't think so," I said, knowing better. I poured myself a cup, completely forgetting to pour him a cup. I was that flummoxed, but I need not worry. As I headed back to the Dragon's lair, he came after me, sat himself down with the coffee pot, and proceeded to drink straight from the pot.

I sat there frozen, as did the Dragon, but O'Hare was pointing and laughing, "He's so silly."

Oh yeah, he is. I was going to take the pot away, but he had already drunk out of it, so I left him to it. Do you know how nuts that looked? Dragon and meself actually looked genteel sipping our coffee, and then you had the tall blond Scot drinking straight from the coffeepot. I dunno. Any attempt at class he had went right out the window.

At least he had the presence of mind to get up and get the sugar and cream and pour that in the kitchen out of sight. After he had swirled the mix together, he was back. O'Hare was the only one in stitches, and I finally had to tell him to stop in which the lower lip came so far out you could sit on it. He then closed his arms over his chest and stalked off to his room to get away from mean old me.

So that started my day—it did indeed. I tell you, I never in my life thought I'd be sitting with the two of them together. I cringe just thinking about what the possibilities could be.

To be Continued

Gabe
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