love musket delight
no warning before the shot
no madam, thank YOU.
This weekend suckified. I was supposed to go get Haggard and hang out, chillin, wylin and profilin', or just tickle fighting like we usually do, and then go to my instructor's for a cookout. What ended up happening, well, dammit....
You see, sometime in the past, maybe to fill a lull in the conversation or to get him off the phone, I had informed Smeagol that sometime he should come up to eat, as I bbq almost every weekend, and let me jump off track here. Why do we only barbecue when it is 115 damn degrees out? Why does everyone look at me funny when I am outside in the dead of winter trying to smoke some meat? (Dammit you know what I mean)
Anyway, apparently Smeagol's raptor sense noticed that there was a critical mass of fun and success coming my way, and he engaged his patented FailureBoosters(TM) and called my house up to remind me I had made a promise, not unlike Rumpelstiltskin did to the princess or something.... except I have never worn anything princess-like.
"Hey, niggie, I'm so hungry, come get me, you promised!" He moaned into the phone, probably massaging his prostate through his thong as the cat licked peanut butter off of his sagging balls, which sagged delicately out onto his couch. I instantly wince, knowing my whole weekend is fucking ruined because this asshat has nothing else to do. But, being a mentally retarded optimist (for with family like Smeagol, being an optimist means I must be mentally retarded), I figured it might actually be nice, and head over to pick him up.
Of course, as you should all well be able to understandificate by now, there is no such thing as simply "picking Smeagol up", oh no! I show up at his house, and he answers the door with a moan. Why he felt the need to moan like a whipped slave while simply turning a knob is beyond me, though I can kind of understand because some other people's contacts with knobs does lead to a lot of moaning, and in my case, kids, but I digress.
So I go inside, and the first thing out of his mouth is "Hey, can you take me to fill out an application? It's in Pleasant Valley" Alright, that is not too far away, but come on. Pleasant Valley? Does that sound like a city receptive to failure cloak-wearing raptors? I drive him over there, the whole time him telling me about how tired he is, and making numerous references to how much "it's gonna suck having to ride my bike, mmmmMMMmm..." and looking at me sadly. Whatever, I am not going to take the bait, I just mumble "Yep" and go back to trying to hold my breath.
We get to the nursing home, and of course they tell him they are not hiring, why would they give hope to a raptor, and we leave. Now, a little side tidbit: Whenever I go to a gas station, and especially Quiktrip, if there are other denizens int eh vehicular with me, I ask them if I can get them anything, and that goes doubly if I am wasting their gasoline. For Smeagol? Not so...
"Hey niggie can you stop at Quiktrip? I need to run in real quick" he grumbles, still annoyed at being turned down by what was either a very hairy old woman or a homeless man wearing scrubs with saggy breasts. He then gets out, runs into the store, and comes back out slurping on a soda, not 1 day after I bought him a soda at QT... I mean, it sounds petty now, but it's still pretty annoying.
We get to my house, and there the begging starts. THis is what I had been waiting for, as JJ had warned me of his considerable begging prowess and refusal to accept anything other than aqcuiesence. To explain, Smeagol had been at my mom's house earlier in the week. He was laying on the couch, not yet thonged but still folded up like a pretzel, rubbing his feet forlornly, when he quipped "So, what's wrong with Stevester's Escort? I mean why is it down here, is something wrong with it or..." and this is the most annoying part, where he trails off at the end of his whiny ass question. JJ informed him he had no idea, that I had parked it there so my dad could look at it, which is exactly what I had told him as well. This, much like being turned down by a homeless woman, did nothing to faze the wily raptor, who continued: "So, what is he gonna do with it? Is he gonna fix it up and drive it or..." which is annoying to JJ as well as me, I mean come on, I had made it perfectly clear, in front of JJ, to Smeagol, who was sitting in the couch, that I intended the Escort to do what any good backup car does and sit until I needed it, how tough is that? At this point JJ informs him he has had enough and any more questions will get Smeags the beating of a lifetime.
Anyway, back to the present. "So what's wrong with the Escort? You gonna fix it up and then park this or..." The reason the pause is so annoying is because of what we all know it implies, that he wants me to make the logical leap that I should give it to him. I do not bite, so he gets direct: "If I pay to get it fixed, can I have it?" That would negate my having it as a third car, and get me arrested because we all know he has no intention of getting the car fixed, much less legal. He plans on doing just enough to get it to go where he needs to, and then when he gets a ticket pretend he is me like he always does, snickering to himself at his good fortune.
I ignore him, and we go inside. I am cooking, so I am in and out of the house, much like a brown balding penis into a aluminum sided vagina, or not. I am not much of a writer.
I walk back inside to get the tongs and such, and Smeagol is coming out of my room, tucking his shirt in. WTF?! "You have some nice shirts in there, I might have to borrow some sometime niggie!"
Part II tomorrow, in which Smeagol makes up a new disease and also finally annoys me enough to let him have something.
Why does Smeagol need a consolation prize everywhere he goes?