657
R. Linda:
You want a story and I be sadly out of anything funny happening of late to put it down on the blog. So when I read one of me anonymous fan's comments it brought back a memory of an incident they wrote about that had happened to me as well, so here is me old but kind of new story.
He was sitting there looking at the Weasil in amused amazement.
"This isn't the six o'clock news." He said.
I had to snicker to meself that he hit it right on the head. The Weasil was in a dilemma and he was pouring it out to the Wolf and the Wolf wasn't buying it. Neither was I, though when Weasil began his story I had started to think he was serious, and he was, but . . .
"Iz true," the Weasil whined.
"You are telling me that Brookline, Massachusetts is considering posting fines to anyone accused of public cursing and excessive "ruckus" behaviour on its streets?" Wolf asked.
"Yuppers, dey are!" The Weasil said making a point by sticking his finger in the air.
"And . . . I should care why?" Wolf asked.
"Because iffin' yer fine self comes ta Brookline ya can't curse or cause a "ruckus"."
"And . . . when have I EVER been in Brookline?" Wolf asked intrigued, as he sat in a London hotel with the three of us partaking in an early drink at a table in the lounge.
"Ya haven't yet but dere be always a first timey sos wot ya gonner do bout it?" Weasil expounded.
Wolf looked at me helplessly. He was wearing a wtf look and I knew that look meant he was in the presence of a crazy person and he wanted out NOW. He sighed and looked straight at the Weasil.
"I am extremely surprised that an entrepreneur like yourself and aficionado of anything Boston, Massachusetts would turn to ME for a possible solution to a problem that in no wise effects myself or anyone I know but . . . " and he pointed at the Weasil, "YOU."
"Egg-zactly!" I threw out for good measure.
"Really?" Weasil squinted his eyes at both of us. "Boff of yas? No help 'ere?" He said, feigning a helpless look to rival Wolfie's. "Brookline's scene iz thriving even iffn it ain't obvious to the confines of either of yer arses."
"OH . . . " Wolf howled, "we are being insulted now?"
"Ya boff gots da credentials, da savvy, da smarts ta fix dissy sit-u-a-tion sos yer good friend . . . mainly ME . . . dunt go offin ta Brookline and gits arrested and worse deported!"
Wolfie turned to me ignoring the young whippersnapper.
"So Gabe, hear about the changing landscape of media and where it's converging with inbound marketing?" Wolf asked me.
"Why no Wolfie, I hadn't," I said interested, but the one that wasn't was the eye-rolling Weasil who was squirming in his seat like he couldn't believe we'd drop his important situation. "Though I think you should count down to a retail launch of . . . of . . . " I was trying to think of something, anything to get off the foolish conversation that the Weasil was instigating, "of marketing hair products since that seems to be your strong point."
Wolfie cocked an eyebrow at me in amusement.
"Wow," Weasil interrupted, "dis iz as interestin' as an ambulance crashin' inta a building on Boylston Street, it be anythin' but dull!"
That got me attention and being a news hound I was about to ask if the patient got hurt, but Wolfie reached over and shook my arm and said, "No. Do NOT go there. You don't want to know believe me."
"Really?" Weasil said to him. "Iz a goodly story."
I looked at Wolf and he looked warningly at me, but I blew it I gave in and said, "So?"
Wolf sighed in exasperation but Weasil lit up like a Christmas tree he wiggled in his seat and got himself settled for a story. Wolf occupied himself by looking around the room for someone he knew so he could escape, but it was early and there was just us so he shook his head like "I dunno" and sat there nursing his scotch, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.
"OK sos 'eres da dealie," Weasil said, "dis anonymous person who drinks lotsa beer had a conch shell."
"See? Already we are in la-la land." Wolfie muttered to me.
"And dey picked it up offin' da beach in Hawaii and brought it home cus dey thought it was purdy."
"OK," I said not liking where he seemed to be going with the usual nonsense.
"AND when dey gotz home dey took it out and put it on a shelf in da livin' room sos everyone could admire it."
Wolfie covered his face and rubbed it as if when he uncovered it Weasil would magically disappear but NO he was still sitting there. Wolfie looked pained.
"That's it?" I asked.
"Nah Iz only gitten' started. SOS den da beer drinkin' anonymous one, hadda par-tay."
"A what?" I asked.
"A party," Wolfie translated as he took a healthy sip of his scotch and signalled the waitress for another.
"OH I see howz itz gonner be." Weasil said noticing Wolf was going to drink him away.
"Just continue with your story!" He said to Weasil. "Let's get this over with."
"OK, sos da anonymous one has dissy 'ere par-tay and aftah everyone left she was alone wit her boyfriend. An while she went out ta da kitchen to git some more beers he went over to da shelf and spied da conch shell. He asked da anonymous one where she got the shell, was it Hawaii? And she yelled from da kitchen dat yes indeedie it were. Next thing she hears him yelling and screamin' and she rushes in spillin' da two beers to see him dancin' around the room wit da shell attached ta his ear."
Wolfie's scotch came and he looked at me like I should consider downing me glass and ordering a bigger one. I did. Weasil continued.
"Turns out settled in da shell were a land crab. An it had been in dere da whole timey an it were hungry by den. And da anonymous one's boyfriend had picked it up ta listen ta da ocean when . . . da crabby decided to chew on his ear. Sos she gits da shell and pulls and dere iz Mr. Crab hangin' from da boyfriend's earlobe and she ran inta da kitchen, got on her oven mitts and den back ta da boyfriend's ear, she reached up and pulled at da crab but Mr. Crab was havin' none a dat and clamped on harder pinchin' da boyfriend's ear till it got bloody."
I sat there with me face covered. The story was ridiculous, but we are talking Weasil and the worse thing about Weasil telling a story is no matter how crazy it really is, he makes it sound exciting and worse as if it were TRUE! With me face covered I couldn't see what Wolfie's reaction was, but I could imagine he was unsettled, to put it mildly, OR drinking straight out of the scotch bottle.
I peeked at Weasil by sliding a finger from one eye and behind me hands I said, "I know I will regret this, but then what?"
To which Wolfie moaned and was shaking his head at me like DO NOT ENCOURAGE HIM!
"Welly, when she couldn't git da crab offin' da boyfriend's bloody ear lobe she called 911 which be 999 here . . . "
"Just get on with it, we know all that!" Wolfie said impatiently.
"Ok, ok, ok," Weasil said holding his hands up as if fending off Wolfie verbally. "Sos, da am-bu-lance came and dey couldn't git it off either sos dey packed da boyfriend and Mr. Crab in da am-bu-lance and started off ta da nearest ER . . . dat be A & E here." He paused.
"We KNOW THAT!" Wolfie lost his temper.
"Ok, ok, ok Iz a gitten dere. SOS once in da am-bu-lance, da paramedics are werkin' on da boyfriend when one of em finally gits da crab lose but den da crab was bouncing all over da am-bu-lance which caused da driver of da am-bu-lance ta lose control and he hit a truck den he bounced offin' a building. On Boylston Street."
All was silent. I removed me hands from me face and Wolfie put his scotch glass down. We both looked at Weasil, like "WELL?"
"Everyone wuz okie-dokie but fer da crab Iz sorree ta say. Mr. Crab, may he restie in pieces, cuz he wuz in pieces by da time da am-bu-lance stopped. Ya see dey all grabbed at his many legs and well he was in PIECES and dat kilt his bad self."
"That's it?" I asked.
"Well, shite yeah. Wot more ya want dere Gabbie?" Weasil said. He got up to excuse himself leaving us sitting there looking after him.
"I hope you're happy," Wolf said to me. "Was it worth it?"
"Uh . . . no, actually that was a bloody awful story and I cannot believe I sat here and listened to that rot." It was then I noticed the bottle of scotch. It wasn't a regular bottle it was a 450cl bottle, the largest bottle of Chivas Regal I had ever seen and it was drunk halfway. "Tell me you haven't drunk all that," I asked pointing at the huge bottle.
"Yes, I have. While you were hiding your facial expressions and sparing me the pain of it to blot out the sight and sound . . . why yes I drank most of the bottle and IF I am subject to any more of Weasil's stories I will finish it. Then you and he can put me in an am-bu-lance and rush me to the nearest A & E after dialling 999!"
I nodded.
"Really?" I said still nodding. "Oh for God's sake give me some of that you aren't going to drink the whole thing now are you?"
He grabbed the big bottle to him making it obvious he wasn't sharing.
"Get your own you will need it!" He sneered.
And I did. By the time the Weasil returned (the Weasil's bathroom break isn't just to the men's room. Once he's done in there it is the leisurely stroll through the lobby if we see a pretty girl we are right there chatting away like we have all the time in the world, and we aren't married (which we are, but seem to forget at the sight of a pretty face), then its stroll on into the bar and stop and chat with the first table of tourists he comes upon, so it takes the Weasil about an hour for a pit stop. Yes, it does.) Wolfie was on the other side of sober, his large 450cl bottle empty, and I was halfway there, nursing a terrible case of hiccoughs.
"Wots dissy 'ere?" He said looking at the large bottles.
"You . . . " Wolfie started but couldn't get his words to form so I finished it up for him.
"Drive us to drink (hiccough!)."
"Dissy be howz it iz, huh?" He said. "Welly, boff of yer arses owe me now fer tellin' ya da story. Sos wot ya gonner do bout Brookline?"
I had put me bottle in me lap out of Weasil's reach and placed both hands over me ears but Wolfie did me one better, he simply passed out. Obvious . . . oblivion . . . lucky guy couldn't hear and did not hear the rest of Weasil whining we were (neither of us) any help in his plight.
I don't remember much of what happened after that. But the next morning I had to literally drag meself out of bed and downstairs to breakfast. I sat at our table feeling and probably looking green to the gills, but Wolfie, came down looking sharp and like he never drank that 450cl bottle of Chivas.
"Howz this possible?" I asked him.
"Wot?" He said as if he didn't know.
"YOU!" I said gesturing to him and then to me dishevelled self. "I'm as Irish as you so how's this possible?" I was stymied I was.
"Em . . . you are Irish that's right, I'm Scots Irish. Therefore, drinking Scottish liquor . . . em . . . no problem."
I narrowed me eyes at the likes of him. Well! As to the other one, he was nowhere to be seen which was a good thing.
"Probably on the transatlantic cable complaining about Brookline," I said as me head pounded.
"Good one, transatlantic cable. How old are we? Or, how drunk are we still?" Wolfie asked laughing at me.
"Ok, mobile phoning or whatever contraption he uses," I said completely out of it. I was channelling me grandmother with the transatlantic cable thing, I don't know why or how, but try that sometime when with sober people and you aren't exactly sharing that condition, and say that and see what happens. I feel a little green from just the telling of this. Oi!
Here be a photo of the large bottle both of us drank EACH to blot out the Weasil.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
You want a story and I be sadly out of anything funny happening of late to put it down on the blog. So when I read one of me anonymous fan's comments it brought back a memory of an incident they wrote about that had happened to me as well, so here is me old but kind of new story.
He was sitting there looking at the Weasil in amused amazement.
"This isn't the six o'clock news." He said.
I had to snicker to meself that he hit it right on the head. The Weasil was in a dilemma and he was pouring it out to the Wolf and the Wolf wasn't buying it. Neither was I, though when Weasil began his story I had started to think he was serious, and he was, but . . .
"Iz true," the Weasil whined.
"You are telling me that Brookline, Massachusetts is considering posting fines to anyone accused of public cursing and excessive "ruckus" behaviour on its streets?" Wolf asked.
"Yuppers, dey are!" The Weasil said making a point by sticking his finger in the air.
"And . . . I should care why?" Wolf asked.
"Because iffin' yer fine self comes ta Brookline ya can't curse or cause a "ruckus"."
"And . . . when have I EVER been in Brookline?" Wolf asked intrigued, as he sat in a London hotel with the three of us partaking in an early drink at a table in the lounge.
"Ya haven't yet but dere be always a first timey sos wot ya gonner do bout it?" Weasil expounded.
Wolf looked at me helplessly. He was wearing a wtf look and I knew that look meant he was in the presence of a crazy person and he wanted out NOW. He sighed and looked straight at the Weasil.
"I am extremely surprised that an entrepreneur like yourself and aficionado of anything Boston, Massachusetts would turn to ME for a possible solution to a problem that in no wise effects myself or anyone I know but . . . " and he pointed at the Weasil, "YOU."
"Egg-zactly!" I threw out for good measure.
"Really?" Weasil squinted his eyes at both of us. "Boff of yas? No help 'ere?" He said, feigning a helpless look to rival Wolfie's. "Brookline's scene iz thriving even iffn it ain't obvious to the confines of either of yer arses."
"OH . . . " Wolf howled, "we are being insulted now?"
"Ya boff gots da credentials, da savvy, da smarts ta fix dissy sit-u-a-tion sos yer good friend . . . mainly ME . . . dunt go offin ta Brookline and gits arrested and worse deported!"
Wolfie turned to me ignoring the young whippersnapper.
"So Gabe, hear about the changing landscape of media and where it's converging with inbound marketing?" Wolf asked me.
"Why no Wolfie, I hadn't," I said interested, but the one that wasn't was the eye-rolling Weasil who was squirming in his seat like he couldn't believe we'd drop his important situation. "Though I think you should count down to a retail launch of . . . of . . . " I was trying to think of something, anything to get off the foolish conversation that the Weasil was instigating, "of marketing hair products since that seems to be your strong point."
Wolfie cocked an eyebrow at me in amusement.
"Wow," Weasil interrupted, "dis iz as interestin' as an ambulance crashin' inta a building on Boylston Street, it be anythin' but dull!"
That got me attention and being a news hound I was about to ask if the patient got hurt, but Wolfie reached over and shook my arm and said, "No. Do NOT go there. You don't want to know believe me."
"Really?" Weasil said to him. "Iz a goodly story."
I looked at Wolf and he looked warningly at me, but I blew it I gave in and said, "So?"
Wolf sighed in exasperation but Weasil lit up like a Christmas tree he wiggled in his seat and got himself settled for a story. Wolf occupied himself by looking around the room for someone he knew so he could escape, but it was early and there was just us so he shook his head like "I dunno" and sat there nursing his scotch, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.
"OK sos 'eres da dealie," Weasil said, "dis anonymous person who drinks lotsa beer had a conch shell."
"See? Already we are in la-la land." Wolfie muttered to me.
"And dey picked it up offin' da beach in Hawaii and brought it home cus dey thought it was purdy."
"OK," I said not liking where he seemed to be going with the usual nonsense.
"AND when dey gotz home dey took it out and put it on a shelf in da livin' room sos everyone could admire it."
Wolfie covered his face and rubbed it as if when he uncovered it Weasil would magically disappear but NO he was still sitting there. Wolfie looked pained.
"That's it?" I asked.
"Nah Iz only gitten' started. SOS den da beer drinkin' anonymous one, hadda par-tay."
"A what?" I asked.
"A party," Wolfie translated as he took a healthy sip of his scotch and signalled the waitress for another.
"OH I see howz itz gonner be." Weasil said noticing Wolf was going to drink him away.
"Just continue with your story!" He said to Weasil. "Let's get this over with."
"OK, sos da anonymous one has dissy 'ere par-tay and aftah everyone left she was alone wit her boyfriend. An while she went out ta da kitchen to git some more beers he went over to da shelf and spied da conch shell. He asked da anonymous one where she got the shell, was it Hawaii? And she yelled from da kitchen dat yes indeedie it were. Next thing she hears him yelling and screamin' and she rushes in spillin' da two beers to see him dancin' around the room wit da shell attached ta his ear."
Wolfie's scotch came and he looked at me like I should consider downing me glass and ordering a bigger one. I did. Weasil continued.
"Turns out settled in da shell were a land crab. An it had been in dere da whole timey an it were hungry by den. And da anonymous one's boyfriend had picked it up ta listen ta da ocean when . . . da crabby decided to chew on his ear. Sos she gits da shell and pulls and dere iz Mr. Crab hangin' from da boyfriend's earlobe and she ran inta da kitchen, got on her oven mitts and den back ta da boyfriend's ear, she reached up and pulled at da crab but Mr. Crab was havin' none a dat and clamped on harder pinchin' da boyfriend's ear till it got bloody."
I sat there with me face covered. The story was ridiculous, but we are talking Weasil and the worse thing about Weasil telling a story is no matter how crazy it really is, he makes it sound exciting and worse as if it were TRUE! With me face covered I couldn't see what Wolfie's reaction was, but I could imagine he was unsettled, to put it mildly, OR drinking straight out of the scotch bottle.
I peeked at Weasil by sliding a finger from one eye and behind me hands I said, "I know I will regret this, but then what?"
To which Wolfie moaned and was shaking his head at me like DO NOT ENCOURAGE HIM!
"Welly, when she couldn't git da crab offin' da boyfriend's bloody ear lobe she called 911 which be 999 here . . . "
"Just get on with it, we know all that!" Wolfie said impatiently.
"Ok, ok, ok," Weasil said holding his hands up as if fending off Wolfie verbally. "Sos, da am-bu-lance came and dey couldn't git it off either sos dey packed da boyfriend and Mr. Crab in da am-bu-lance and started off ta da nearest ER . . . dat be A & E here." He paused.
"We KNOW THAT!" Wolfie lost his temper.
"Ok, ok, ok Iz a gitten dere. SOS once in da am-bu-lance, da paramedics are werkin' on da boyfriend when one of em finally gits da crab lose but den da crab was bouncing all over da am-bu-lance which caused da driver of da am-bu-lance ta lose control and he hit a truck den he bounced offin' a building. On Boylston Street."
All was silent. I removed me hands from me face and Wolfie put his scotch glass down. We both looked at Weasil, like "WELL?"
"Everyone wuz okie-dokie but fer da crab Iz sorree ta say. Mr. Crab, may he restie in pieces, cuz he wuz in pieces by da time da am-bu-lance stopped. Ya see dey all grabbed at his many legs and well he was in PIECES and dat kilt his bad self."
"That's it?" I asked.
"Well, shite yeah. Wot more ya want dere Gabbie?" Weasil said. He got up to excuse himself leaving us sitting there looking after him.
"I hope you're happy," Wolf said to me. "Was it worth it?"
"Uh . . . no, actually that was a bloody awful story and I cannot believe I sat here and listened to that rot." It was then I noticed the bottle of scotch. It wasn't a regular bottle it was a 450cl bottle, the largest bottle of Chivas Regal I had ever seen and it was drunk halfway. "Tell me you haven't drunk all that," I asked pointing at the huge bottle.
"Yes, I have. While you were hiding your facial expressions and sparing me the pain of it to blot out the sight and sound . . . why yes I drank most of the bottle and IF I am subject to any more of Weasil's stories I will finish it. Then you and he can put me in an am-bu-lance and rush me to the nearest A & E after dialling 999!"
I nodded.
"Really?" I said still nodding. "Oh for God's sake give me some of that you aren't going to drink the whole thing now are you?"
He grabbed the big bottle to him making it obvious he wasn't sharing.
"Get your own you will need it!" He sneered.
And I did. By the time the Weasil returned (the Weasil's bathroom break isn't just to the men's room. Once he's done in there it is the leisurely stroll through the lobby if we see a pretty girl we are right there chatting away like we have all the time in the world, and we aren't married (which we are, but seem to forget at the sight of a pretty face), then its stroll on into the bar and stop and chat with the first table of tourists he comes upon, so it takes the Weasil about an hour for a pit stop. Yes, it does.) Wolfie was on the other side of sober, his large 450cl bottle empty, and I was halfway there, nursing a terrible case of hiccoughs.
"Wots dissy 'ere?" He said looking at the large bottles.
"You . . . " Wolfie started but couldn't get his words to form so I finished it up for him.
"Drive us to drink (hiccough!)."
"Dissy be howz it iz, huh?" He said. "Welly, boff of yer arses owe me now fer tellin' ya da story. Sos wot ya gonner do bout Brookline?"
I had put me bottle in me lap out of Weasil's reach and placed both hands over me ears but Wolfie did me one better, he simply passed out. Obvious . . . oblivion . . . lucky guy couldn't hear and did not hear the rest of Weasil whining we were (neither of us) any help in his plight.
I don't remember much of what happened after that. But the next morning I had to literally drag meself out of bed and downstairs to breakfast. I sat at our table feeling and probably looking green to the gills, but Wolfie, came down looking sharp and like he never drank that 450cl bottle of Chivas.
"Howz this possible?" I asked him.
"Wot?" He said as if he didn't know.
"YOU!" I said gesturing to him and then to me dishevelled self. "I'm as Irish as you so how's this possible?" I was stymied I was.
"Em . . . you are Irish that's right, I'm Scots Irish. Therefore, drinking Scottish liquor . . . em . . . no problem."
I narrowed me eyes at the likes of him. Well! As to the other one, he was nowhere to be seen which was a good thing.
"Probably on the transatlantic cable complaining about Brookline," I said as me head pounded.
"Good one, transatlantic cable. How old are we? Or, how drunk are we still?" Wolfie asked laughing at me.
"Ok, mobile phoning or whatever contraption he uses," I said completely out of it. I was channelling me grandmother with the transatlantic cable thing, I don't know why or how, but try that sometime when with sober people and you aren't exactly sharing that condition, and say that and see what happens. I feel a little green from just the telling of this. Oi!
Here be a photo of the large bottle both of us drank EACH to blot out the Weasil.
 |
| On its side just like we were by the time we finished |
 |
| And THIS is what it looked like before we started -- hiccup! |
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
