Hey This may not be as side splitting as last time (for you- last time was hell on earth for the Falcon here), but it still was what it was. And here it is. Thursday Shit starts practically the minute I pull up in front of the house. I don't have trash pick up out here- hell, I think the guy who delivers the mail still rides a horse- so I bring a bag of trash out with me to throw in my parent's can. D: I saw that bag of trash you put around the side of the house. B: Did you remember to pack your damn sugar pills. Later Mom: Did you remember your sugar medicine. D: I hope this trip isn't like the last one. We get on the road. He starts out talking about this son of a friend of theirs, he lost his job at one of the chemical plants here, but they're going to transfer him to Sistersville. His wife doesn't want to go, wants him to quit his $70 thousand a year job and stay here, try to find something local. B: If Greg's not careful, he's going to find himself working at
McDonalds. List of things my dad hates- me, all politicians, but especially Bob Wise, cell phones, people who talk on cell phones, the bastards who ruined baseball, my sister Tina, Tina's cats, computers, people who use computers, the bastards who ruined football, all the local newscasters, Canadian drivers- D: Look out, there's one! - all the fast food places in Cross Lanes, anything invented after 1940, Okie Pickerel, all the national newscasters, especially the ones on ESPN ("buncha damn smart asses, just like you"), Thelma Pickerel, the sun, the moon, the stars, everything else. List of things my dad likes- farting. We stop at Ryan's in Clarksburg for lunch. My dad likes the buffet places. I don't really care for the pigs at a trough aspect of most of them, but I'm not about to argue. D: I hate old people. D: We need to stop at a rest stop. So we stop. He gets his bag, starts fumbling around in it, and fumbling around . . . and fumbling around . . . B: What's the problem? We're almost there when we get stopped in Hedgesville by a car wreck. My dad immediately starts fidgeting like a fucking 2 year old. If patience were brains, he'd have exactly the IQ he does now. B: What's your problem now? He looks out the window D: There's a great big brim on this side. We get to the motel, check in, my dad gets the key and walks out. I ask the clerk for another key. C: We're only supposed to give out the one. We get to the room, my dad immediately heads for the shitter, I get out the step and the hand weights I brought along. About 20 minutes later he comes out of the bathroom. B: Jesus Christ, shut that door. D: Where do you want to eat? Friday This is technically Friday, since it was in the am when Staci gave me a ride back to the motel. She pulls up in front of the room. S: What's that smell? Friday was a short day, as has been noted previously we came back early, and I was not feeling well. B: I need some damn pain killer. D: That transmission's really got me worried. I think we just need to
go have breakfast, and get back to Charleston so I can have it looked at. We go to Denny's, for a (combined) $15 breakfast. D: This is too much. That's about it. It's weird, we stopped and visited with my cousin Joyce for a while Thursday afternoon, (and she had pizza delivered, which is why there's no funny dinner story) and she was talking, unprompted, about the same damn thing mentioned above, still feeling like a kid in her head, when she's pushing 50. Joyce is a character, she drinks gin like I drink- well, gin- and deserves an essay of her own someday, she sort of took over for my granddad as being the person everyone in Martinsburg knew, and feared. Her nickname for ages was Juice if that tells you anything, and she was a female bouncer at this pretty rough club, and won fights with bikers, sailors, marines, and pretty damn much anyone else who started shit with her, including me. She owns a legitimate submission victory over the Death Falcon (you know, a lot of my losses have come at the hands of family, my dad remains to this day the only man to ever knock me unconscious with just his fist- I've been punched out 3 times in my life, but the other 2 times it was me head hitting the street/curb that actually put me out). Joyce is built like Rachel, which means she's heavy and always has been, but with those two we're not talking loose and flabby heavy, we're talking heavy like those monolithic Soviet weightlifters who could flick massive barbells around like Q-tips. She's 2 years older than me, and once when we were about 10 and 12 we were arguing, which my family does like none other, when the words "big fatty" crossed my lips. Well, that set us to blows. Every one of mine was like hitting the tar baby (I didn't normally hit girls, but this was life or death), every one of hers about knocked me out of my socks. She eventually knocked me down and sat on me and made me not only say uncle, but that I was a big fatty. Pretty humiliating, but it was that or suffocation. A little more, and we're done, wanna make sure you get your money's worth. Driving back today in some serious pain made me think of the last time I was out of town, and got hurt . . . Bill and Joe, Carolina Beach, NC, May 1979 B: Hey, Joe, watch me cartwheel over that car. I woke up the next morning with that vague, something's wrong but I'm
not sure what, feeling. Then I tried to put on my shirt. Joe had some kind of pills down there with him, I don't remember what they were. B: Hey, Joe, you think those pills'd be good for pain? I passed out soon after, which was my goal, and stayed unconscious for most of the trip back to WV. Joe gets me back to my mom and dad's house, I go inside, Joe wisely bails out and heads for home. Dad: You look like the damn Humpback Of Nuder Dame. We get up to the hospital, the emergency room doctor takes one look at me and- Doc- Oh my God! How long has that shoulder been out of the socket? By God, though, next Friday I was up there at the altar, standing proud- Preacher- I now pronounce you man and wife. Nothing I can add to that. Love alla ya (well, actually, that's not true, but I DO love all ya that I know. OK?) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Bill
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