[Today we come to the end of my little story about campsites and sailboats. The trip was peaceful but dragging the storyline over the threshold to live posts was chaos. What you’re reading was (mostly) typed last year, temporarily abandoned, and (once I started posting) ruthlessly interrupted by the realities of plumbing in January.
I end with a post brought to us by none other than the lovely Mrs. Curmudgeon. I’d planned a smooth transition from my writing to hers, but given the many interruptions I’m just going to drag the needle to the last track. (Those of you under 40 may wish to Google the mystery of record tracks and how needles work.) ]
[After a wonderful solo camping sailing trip, I met up with Mrs. Curmudgeon and we had a delightful road trip back home. During that trip we stopped off at a restaurant near a water park. Mrs. Curmudgeon overheard the following conversation and wrote it down to share. Every time I read it I laugh.]
A conversation between two young boys overheard in a family restaurant on my vacation:
“I saw you on the waterslide. You had a ‘rection. I saw it flappin’ around.”
“So? I like the waterslide.”
“You aint supposed to have ‘rection in your bathing suit.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t have to hit it!”
“Did too! Punched you in the boner. (sing-song) Ha ha ha!”
“That really hurt you sonfabitch! You should say sorry.”
“I’m not sorry. ‘Rection wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“Punching and laughin’ at me all the way down the waterslide didn’t help!”
“You want me to get Mom to help you waa-waa baby?
“Say sorry!!”
“I won’t!
“Oh yeah? I’ll punch you in the boner right now, then you’ll be sorry! You’ll never have a ‘rection again for the rest of your life!” (Scuffle & tussle, while dad is oblivious. He’s dealing with the baby and Mom is at the buffet getting food.)
“OWWW! (A little crying) That really hurts! You asshole!”
“So are you sorry now?”
“No.”
“You will be.”
“No! Stop! I’m sorry.” (more tears)
(Pause while they eat)
“It still hurts – bad. What if it’s broke? What if you broke my boner forever?”
“Jeez – you’re fine! It’ll stop hurting in a few minutes. Shut up.”
“Ok. But I am sorry I punched you in the boner.”
“I’m sorry too. Want a mini donut?”
So, an offence against lex loci reaps punitive assault and derision, leading to lex talionis, deterrence, repentance, forgiveness and reconciliation.
Si vis pacem, parabellum!
Now, regale us with the Saga of Repairs, please.
All that talk about “rection” and they want a mini donut? One wonders what they intended to do with it…
You never fail to amaze me with your posts
Hello. I wish to appoligse for walking away from a half finnished post. The second call from my hot tempered Italian wife, to get to the table before she would dump, my fine italian diner down the the garbage disposal. Needless to say I managed to get to the table in time. As a husband it reminded me of chess. In which the King has limited options, moving ONLY in specfic directions, while the Queen can go in any directions she damn well wishes.