Two of the grands came over to earn a few extra bucks. The ‘Kimchi Kruiser’ has not had a good scrubbing since last fall and what with the pollen falling down with great enthusiasm it seemed like a good match. That kind of thinking has always got me into trouble.
First off they are teenagers, second they are boys, third I believed them when they said, “We can handle this” and lastly they are Irish. So I left them at it unsupervised. What could possibly go wrong?
The first clue that things were not proceeding in an orderly fashion was when I heard the yelling. “Knock it off!” That was the mildest phrase used and the vocabulary deteriorated to phrases I have not heard since my Army days. Finally, a large spray of water hit the side of the house and through the open window so I decided to take a look.
You can imagine my lack of surprise when I went outside to find the two of them soaking wet covered with soap suds and the car now had a protective coating of mud. You know the wise and caring grandfather often portrayed on TV programs? Well, that was not me. I stood there reading them the Riot Act till they both had ashamed looks on their faces.
Thoroughly chastised I turned and stomped off. I got about three paces away and then I felt the hard spray of water on my back. I spun around and got it again full in the face. They dropped the hose and ran off with me in hot pursuit. At my age hot pursuit goes to lukewarm and on to cold, fast.
You might expect that as I was bent over gasping for breath they would have taken pity on the old man. Not these two. I got another spritz, this time on my backside. What a bunch of rotten kids. I waddled into the house to change clothes. However, this time it was swim trunks and a T-shirt. It was payback time.
The kids went back to the job at hand and were finally getting with the program, after all there was some money to be made. However, unbeknownst to them, there is another hose and nozzle on the other side of the house. I also have one of those plant feeding do-wops that screws into the hose. In addition I had a few bottles of food coloring laying around.
You can pretty much figure out what happened next. Turnabout is fair play and in a matter of seconds I had two grandkids who looked like they were ready to lead a ‘Rainbow Coalition’ parade. And here is the best part.
They lads live three blocks away. They had to walk home past their friends’ homes because there was no way they were getting into the car. I understand they had quite a reception when they got home. To quote David Mamet, “Old age and treachery will always beat youth and exuberance.”
By the way I took the Kruiser to the car wash. © 2015, Jim McGowan
Our human took off and let us holding the column bag this week. So I, Fast Eddie Kilkenny, and my brother, Lazy Jake Kilkenny, “Yo dude, ‘sup?” will do the honors.
We have to admit that we got pretty lucky by adopting Jim. He keeps our water and food bowls filled and our litter box empty, mostly. We live in a tidy little cottage that he keeps warm in the winter and cool in the summer. But that is not to say that he does not have faults.
For one thing he really smells bad. I mean he is a real stinker. Sometimes he leaves the house and comes back all sweaty and out of breath. Evidently he goes out running. Why he does this we cannot figure out since he does not seem to be chasing anything and nothing seems to be chasing him. Maybe he is after the squirrels.
So once he comes in and sits there huffing and puffing you will not believe what he does next. Instead of licking himself clean he goes into the little room where he keeps his litter box, we are not going to discuss that, and turns these knob things on the wall and water comes out of the ceiling. Then he stands underneath the water, rubs himself all over, and makes loud, moaning human noises. When he gets out he is thoroughly pleased with himself even though he is soaking wet. Yuck!
Then he has some very strange eating habits. I mean that this guy is a two-legged garbage can. He keeps his food in a big white box in the cooking room. You will not believe what he keeps in there. Everything is dead! Most of the stuff I would not feed to a dog. There is not a fish in sight. One time Lazy Jake tried to help him out and brought him a mouse. Nothing doing. He scooped the mouse up and set it free outside. This after all of LJ’s efforts.
He also keeps very odd hours. Every morning at the same time the little box with the lights on it makes this awful noise. He makes some low growling sounds that I suspect are not very polite, hits the box with one of his paws, gets out of the bed and stumbles into the litter box room with us bringing up the rear. He then goes through the running/soaking routine.
Then he goes into another room and stares into the screen on this little black box. He occasionally taps on the board in front of the screen. He makes those low growling noises and scratches a lot. He does this all day long without stop. You think that he would follow our lead and take a nap. But no, all day, every day it is the same; stare, tap, growl, scratch.
Well, for all his faults he does treat us well, so I guess we’re going to keep him. Right Jake? “Yeah, Bro. He’s a keeper.”© 2015, Jim McGowan
Dear Uncle Seamus; We have an annual event around here called The Carolina Cup. I thought it was some kind of horse race, but I did not see any of the big, brown things. Why was that? Signed, Hungover in Camden.
Dear Hungover; The title is a ruse. It is just an excuse for the Camdiots to dress up in loud, colorful costumes and wear big floral hats. Sometimes the ladies do the same. The only Cups you will find are the red plastic ones filled with cheap booze, but it looks like you found that out.
Dear Uncle Seamus; Some friends of mine have an awful habit of ‘name dropping’. They are constantly making references to the ostensive big shots here in town. What should I do to get them to stop? Thanks, A Nobody in Camden.
Dear Nobody; I was discussing the same problem the other night in Spagos with Oprah, Brad and Angelina and some black guy who was surrounded by Secret Service agents. The consensus was to just to ignore them. The black guy didn’t add too much since he was constantly jumping off his bar stool and pounding his forehead on the floor.
Dear Uncle Seamus; Lately I have put on a few extra pounds. OK I make the floor creak when I walk across it and I live in a slab built house. My friends suggested a Vegan diet. What do you think? Signed, Blubber-Butt.
Dear BB; I am assuming that you are a human or at least bi-pedal. As such you have eyes in the front of your head. That makes you an omnivore, i.e. will eat anything. So, I am a bit leery of an all veggie diet. Let me suggest a semi-vegan diet where you only eat things that eat vegetables.
Dear Uncle Seamus; It appears that every day is some kind of day. I find this very confusing. Come on, “National Cup Cake Day”? Just who designates these days? Signed, Confused Calendar.
Dear CC; The people who have an axe to grind are the ones that come up with these designations, e.g. ‘National Wood Chopper’s Day”, August 12th. I only pay attention to those days that affect me. They are; ‘National Whisky Day’ March 17th, ‘National Hangover Day’ March 18th, ‘Honor Your Local Bail Bondsman Day’ March 19th, etc.
Dear Uncle Seamus; Nowadays I see hundreds of these new ‘designer beers’ on the shelves. It is all very confusing. Just which one is the best? Signed, Baffled By Beer.
Dear BȜ; Trust me. There is no difference in any of them. They are made by some guy in a garage in Newark, NJ. The people that are making the bucks are the folks that print the labels. Buy Cheap.
Dear Uncle Seamus; Our State representatives are having a major flap over ethics. Just what are political ethics anyway? Signed, Earnestly Ethical.
Dear EE; Political ethics are in the same class as; unicorns, mermaids and extra-terrestrials. They to do not exist. © 2015, Jim McGowan