Wednesday, July 06, 2005
A Mom Story
Life is an amazing thing. Grandma Crime Dog, AKA Mom, is still with us. Don't take that to mean that some miraculous recovery is in the offing. It is most assuredly not. We're just amazed that she is still with us. She's free of pain and sleeps 'round the clock, but is not really cognizant of her surroundings, so we are unable to communicate with her. The Good Lord will come for her soon, and our family is prepared.
My big brother Wayne, a Lone Star Parrothead, reminded me today of a favorite family story, in which Mom was central. Seems like a good time to tell it. Wayne and our late brother Gene are both several years older than me. Wayne is always quick to remind me, though I have no independent recollection, that I was somewhat of a brat when a tyke. I had a habit of getting my brothers in trouble by simply screaming in agony for no reason. Mom, of course, would immediately come to my defense and whack my brothers for tormenting me, much to my amusement. We also had this secret brother's password that they annoyed me with, so I annoyed them right back with it. This is Wayne's recollection of events, not mine, and it started out as a cutesy thing:
The Future Crime Dog: "Can I have a bite of your ice cream?"
Wayne: "What's the secret password?"
Cute, huh? Well, it went from that to....
Wayne: "Shut up you little turd, we're trying to watch Huckleberry Hound."
TFCD: "What's the secret password?"
Wayne: "Knock it off. what did you do with my (original) Fantastic 4 comic book?"
TFCD: "I hid it."
Wayne: "Give it to me or I'll break your neck."
TFCD: " What's the secret password?"
Wayne: "This isn't funny you little shit, where's my book?"
TFCD: "You dare me to scream?"
Wayne: "(PASSWORD CENSORED), now give me my damn book!"
(You didn't really think I would reveal the brothers password, did you? C'mon!)
TFCD: "EEEEOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!"
Mom: "Wayne, quit picking on your little brother."
Wayne: "I'm not picking on him. He's doing this on purpose."
Mom: "Quit your lying! He's too little to be that devious!"
Wayne: "Get out of my room you little maggot before I break both your legs!"
TFCD: "What's the secret password?"
Wayne: "That's it, you're dead."
TFCD: "Dare me to scream?"
I'd scream, they'd get beaten for it. Simple. Served me well for years. Or, at least as long as we had hardwood floors.
It seems that, once we got carpeting, Mom went into wall-to-wall stealth mode. I couldn't hear her coming. I pulled my "You dare me to scream?" ploy one day, not aware that she was standing right behind me, and she brought that shit to an abrupt halt.
Mom: (Through clenched teeth) "Yeah, I dare you to scream." Applause from brothers room.
Mom was quite proficient with big-ass wooden salad spoon. She was a Texas State Champ tennis player in her day, and had a great forehand. I could hear the wind whistle past that salad spoon on it's collision course with my ass.
You know what they say: Spare the salad spoon, spoil The Crime Dog.
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My big brother Wayne, a Lone Star Parrothead, reminded me today of a favorite family story, in which Mom was central. Seems like a good time to tell it. Wayne and our late brother Gene are both several years older than me. Wayne is always quick to remind me, though I have no independent recollection, that I was somewhat of a brat when a tyke. I had a habit of getting my brothers in trouble by simply screaming in agony for no reason. Mom, of course, would immediately come to my defense and whack my brothers for tormenting me, much to my amusement. We also had this secret brother's password that they annoyed me with, so I annoyed them right back with it. This is Wayne's recollection of events, not mine, and it started out as a cutesy thing:
The Future Crime Dog: "Can I have a bite of your ice cream?"
Wayne: "What's the secret password?"
Cute, huh? Well, it went from that to....
Wayne: "Shut up you little turd, we're trying to watch Huckleberry Hound."
TFCD: "What's the secret password?"
Wayne: "Knock it off. what did you do with my (original) Fantastic 4 comic book?"
TFCD: "I hid it."
Wayne: "Give it to me or I'll break your neck."
TFCD: " What's the secret password?"
Wayne: "This isn't funny you little shit, where's my book?"
TFCD: "You dare me to scream?"
Wayne: "(PASSWORD CENSORED), now give me my damn book!"
(You didn't really think I would reveal the brothers password, did you? C'mon!)
TFCD: "EEEEOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!"
Mom: "Wayne, quit picking on your little brother."
Wayne: "I'm not picking on him. He's doing this on purpose."
Mom: "Quit your lying! He's too little to be that devious!"
Wayne: "Get out of my room you little maggot before I break both your legs!"
TFCD: "What's the secret password?"
Wayne: "That's it, you're dead."
TFCD: "Dare me to scream?"
I'd scream, they'd get beaten for it. Simple. Served me well for years. Or, at least as long as we had hardwood floors.
It seems that, once we got carpeting, Mom went into wall-to-wall stealth mode. I couldn't hear her coming. I pulled my "You dare me to scream?" ploy one day, not aware that she was standing right behind me, and she brought that shit to an abrupt halt.
Mom: (Through clenched teeth) "Yeah, I dare you to scream." Applause from brothers room.
Mom was quite proficient with big-ass wooden salad spoon. She was a Texas State Champ tennis player in her day, and had a great forehand. I could hear the wind whistle past that salad spoon on it's collision course with my ass.
You know what they say: Spare the salad spoon, spoil The Crime Dog.
