25 March 2019
Story #946
R. Linda:
Sean has a bad habit of falling asleep in front of a blaring telly. He says it be the only way he can sleep. I can't do it, Tonya can't, but Sean's only way to fall asleep be with a blaring noise, and that noise be the telly turned high. Well, this habit has not gone unnoticed by me, apple-cheeked grey-haired Mam, no indeed. It seems she's had it out for Sean for some reason (probably because he's lazy), and well, his falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon while she was trying to concentrate on her taxes just drove her over the edge it did. Timing him for thirty minutes, she finally had had it. She went in and turned off the lights (it was a sunny day, so no need for that either, but that's his other habit; he can't sleep if the room doesn't have a light on, and in this case, all the lights on), and then she switched the telly off and left.
Of course, after a few minutes of darkness and silence, Sean awoke with his usual stuttering, "Whaa, whaa, uhhh." Yup, and there Mam was in the dining room listening to this with an evil grin on her face. About another minute later, our Sean came stumbling into the dining room, rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes and said, "Did you do that?" he pointed to the living room behind him.
"Do wot?" She asked like she hadn't the time, nor did she have any idea what he was talking about.
"Turn the lights and the telly off, I mean."
"OHHH," she said, looking up at him, "it be you! I taught yer wuz dead, so I turned every thin' off."
Yup, and well, that isn't the only thing she's done to him. That's mild compared to the near heart attack she gave him over his favourite hoodie.
When Sean takes occasional naps inside our house instead of his camper, he gets hot just lying there and peels off a hoodie or sweatshirt, and of course, it ends up on the floor. Well, me Mam was doing the wash, and she came to get a sweater she wanted that she left folded very neatly, I might add, on the chair arm. To get there, she had to step over the discarded article, but it was spread out full length, and she had to step on it to get to her sweater. Seeing she left a bit of a footprint, she sighed, picked it up and took it to the washer. It was inside out, and SHE was not about to touch that sweaty hoodie and put it right side out, so she popped it in the washer. Later, she didn't right it when she threw it in the dryer, and she certainly didn't fix it when she folded it. She left it on the edge of the couch where he had been snoozing. When he woke, he saw it and, feeling a wee bit of a chill, put it on. He was still in wakey-wakey mode, so he didn't notice it was inside out. He looked down and didn't see his favourite logo, a cartoon man falling off one of the Cliffs of Moher. Jumping up, he made disparagingly panicked noises as he pulled his shirt around, thinking he had it on backwards! Well, he did now.
"Wot be wrong wit ya?" Mam said, coming in to switch off the light and the telly . . . again.
"Me houdie! Da logo be gone it be!" And he showed it to her as she shook her head in what he thought was her saying silently oh, that's too bad when she was silently thinking, "Yer, a ninny!"
I hate to say this, but it took him a full two hours to realise that the hoodie was inside out and on backwards. Yup!
At lunch yesterday, Sean remarked that he'd love it if me little apple-cheeked, grey-haired Mam would make him some of her "world-renowned Irish potato soup."
"World renown be it?" She quipped.
"Aye ta me it is an' I missed out on it fer St. Pats." He looked long-faced, or as my Mam says, he put his horse face on. "I'll die if I don't have some o' dat tasty fare soon."
"Good to know," she quipped again.
"Wot?" Asks him, quite oblivious to her mood. Let's put it this way, Sean is no charmer; he is deadpan about everything and will never sweet-talk a snake because he doesn't have any of that in him.
"If ye fill dose potholes in da driveway dat yer heavy camper haz made, I'll consider makin' ya da soup. A whole batch jus fer ya sel'."
This sobered Mr. Lazy Person right up. How much did he want that soup? Well, not enough to go get gravel and dirt and fill in the potholes he's made.
"Yer goin' ta die of yer own stubbornness ya are," Mam stated, looking straight at him. "On yer tombstone, it's gonna say Sean Declan O'Sullivan died of too much sleep, not enough potato soup because his stubbornness got da best of 'em. And I'll make sure it says dat on yer stone." With that, she got up and left him sitting without a word of rebuke coming to his slow, sluggish brain. I tell ya!
Gabe
Copyright © 2019 All rights reserved
Story #946
R. Linda:
Sean has a bad habit of falling asleep in front of a blaring telly. He says it be the only way he can sleep. I can't do it, Tonya can't, but Sean's only way to fall asleep be with a blaring noise, and that noise be the telly turned high. Well, this habit has not gone unnoticed by me, apple-cheeked grey-haired Mam, no indeed. It seems she's had it out for Sean for some reason (probably because he's lazy), and well, his falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon while she was trying to concentrate on her taxes just drove her over the edge it did. Timing him for thirty minutes, she finally had had it. She went in and turned off the lights (it was a sunny day, so no need for that either, but that's his other habit; he can't sleep if the room doesn't have a light on, and in this case, all the lights on), and then she switched the telly off and left.
Of course, after a few minutes of darkness and silence, Sean awoke with his usual stuttering, "Whaa, whaa, uhhh." Yup, and there Mam was in the dining room listening to this with an evil grin on her face. About another minute later, our Sean came stumbling into the dining room, rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes and said, "Did you do that?" he pointed to the living room behind him.
"Do wot?" She asked like she hadn't the time, nor did she have any idea what he was talking about.
"Turn the lights and the telly off, I mean."
"OHHH," she said, looking up at him, "it be you! I taught yer wuz dead, so I turned every thin' off."
Yup, and well, that isn't the only thing she's done to him. That's mild compared to the near heart attack she gave him over his favourite hoodie.
When Sean takes occasional naps inside our house instead of his camper, he gets hot just lying there and peels off a hoodie or sweatshirt, and of course, it ends up on the floor. Well, me Mam was doing the wash, and she came to get a sweater she wanted that she left folded very neatly, I might add, on the chair arm. To get there, she had to step over the discarded article, but it was spread out full length, and she had to step on it to get to her sweater. Seeing she left a bit of a footprint, she sighed, picked it up and took it to the washer. It was inside out, and SHE was not about to touch that sweaty hoodie and put it right side out, so she popped it in the washer. Later, she didn't right it when she threw it in the dryer, and she certainly didn't fix it when she folded it. She left it on the edge of the couch where he had been snoozing. When he woke, he saw it and, feeling a wee bit of a chill, put it on. He was still in wakey-wakey mode, so he didn't notice it was inside out. He looked down and didn't see his favourite logo, a cartoon man falling off one of the Cliffs of Moher. Jumping up, he made disparagingly panicked noises as he pulled his shirt around, thinking he had it on backwards! Well, he did now.
"Wot be wrong wit ya?" Mam said, coming in to switch off the light and the telly . . . again.
"Me houdie! Da logo be gone it be!" And he showed it to her as she shook her head in what he thought was her saying silently oh, that's too bad when she was silently thinking, "Yer, a ninny!"
I hate to say this, but it took him a full two hours to realise that the hoodie was inside out and on backwards. Yup!
At lunch yesterday, Sean remarked that he'd love it if me little apple-cheeked, grey-haired Mam would make him some of her "world-renowned Irish potato soup."
"World renown be it?" She quipped.
"Aye ta me it is an' I missed out on it fer St. Pats." He looked long-faced, or as my Mam says, he put his horse face on. "I'll die if I don't have some o' dat tasty fare soon."
"Good to know," she quipped again.
"Wot?" Asks him, quite oblivious to her mood. Let's put it this way, Sean is no charmer; he is deadpan about everything and will never sweet-talk a snake because he doesn't have any of that in him.
"If ye fill dose potholes in da driveway dat yer heavy camper haz made, I'll consider makin' ya da soup. A whole batch jus fer ya sel'."
This sobered Mr. Lazy Person right up. How much did he want that soup? Well, not enough to go get gravel and dirt and fill in the potholes he's made.
"Yer goin' ta die of yer own stubbornness ya are," Mam stated, looking straight at him. "On yer tombstone, it's gonna say Sean Declan O'Sullivan died of too much sleep, not enough potato soup because his stubbornness got da best of 'em. And I'll make sure it says dat on yer stone." With that, she got up and left him sitting without a word of rebuke coming to his slow, sluggish brain. I tell ya!
Gabe
Copyright © 2019 All rights reserved
