When I was a kid, Saturdays meant that I would wander over to a buddy’s house, his mom would throw us outside, regardless of weather conditions, we would tromp to the next buddy’s house, and so on… until we’d finally land somewhere filled with toys (power tools, ready mix concrete, scrap metal) where we could maximize both our fun-making and destructive talents.
Now, Saturdays mean that I get to clean all fucking morning, strip all personal effects from this goddam Hotel-of-a-house, and disappear with AssHead for several hours while strangers openly critique my housekeeping and home-improvement skills. They still aren’t fucking buying, but I’m not bitter as a fucking mouthful of moldy coffee grounds either.
AT ALL.
My buddy, The Montanan, called though, and invited me over for a couple beers. The sumbitch failed to mention that his “invite” was a clever euphemism for “help me move my 7-thousand pound Keggerator out of the basement” and that he didn’t really have any beer.
He also failed to mention that Parker isn’t really a “suburb” of Denver, like I’d always thought, but is just a Stone’s Throw *cough ReallyFuckingFar cough* from Lakewood, where AssHead and I were perusing potential abodes.
He also left out the fact that he has toys. Lots of ’em. Big Boy TOYS, and they kick much ass. We cranked up his old turntable and vintage collection of Zeppelin, drank numerous bottles of MGD, revved his Harley to neighbors-contemplating-homicide levels, kicked the tires on his climb-the-sides-of-skyscrapers Jeep, and played foosball, pool, and basement hockey while ever-attempting to impress each other with increasingly loud and disgusting beer belches.
Phrases like “Fuckstick” and “Shitsucker” were thrown around with much machismo-laden affection.
We even scratched and drank and smoked and discussed the ’79 Trans Am parts that used to be under his back porch.
Apart from the discussion of his numerous Engineering Degrees, we WhiteTrashed it up like a coupla champs.
As much fun as was being had, I had to bust across town in time to babysit LittleBrother while The Mom and LifePartner attended some sort of soiree.
I’d brought along some stuff that I thought would keep him busy, and while I was making dinner he found the WebCam.
Being the role-model-type-guy that I am, I had to show him how it was done.
Me | My Protege |
The kid’s a quick study, but the cord on the cam crapped out before we could capture ourselves Spidermanning up the walls and ceiling. Bummer.
LittleBrother’s a good kid, but can be a bit picky about food. This may fly with LifePartner, but not when Judd is cooking.
“Ew. What’s that?”
“Don’t ‘ew’ me, they’re potatoes and they’re yummy. Broccoli and chicken strips too.”
“I’m not a big fan of potatoes or broccoli.”
“Oh yeah? You a big fan of Letters to Grandma?*”
*Involves pinning child down with knees while pounding on their chest typewriter-style with your fingers… “D-e-a-r” *pound pound pound*
He shrieked and recoiled, “Noooooooooooo!”
I casually explained to him that I was going to subject him to Letters to Grandma every time I saw him, and without eating his vegetables, he’d never be able to stop me.
I know, I know, I never thought I’d hear myself using that whole “eat your veggies and grow up big and strong” bit either, but the kid cleaned his entire plate, so it’s hard to argue with the results.
Neither of my two favorite Aussies were online, so we watched us some SpiderMan vs. Doc Ock, and worked in the sketchbook after being suitably inspired.
LittleBrother’s got some talent too, and even though we argued theology for 15 minutes while I was tucking him in, I promised him that “our” picture, even unfinished, was good enough to show to folks.
Calm down, I didn’t blast off into a tangent about my thoughts on Organized Religion or the existence of the Big “G,” he’s only 8 for chrissakes.
I just had to explain to him that even though I had no proof that one won’t be magically gifted with the Powers of SpiderMan even if he prays really hard, I’d never heard of it happening either.
He decided it was worth a shot though, and that works for me. He prayed for love and peace and alla the good stuff too, but I gotta confess, I’d love me some Spidey Powers, so LittleBrother told me he’d throw in my request too.
Sweet.
Chicks dig Spiderman.