But my night got worse. Like Pete said with the cold front blowing through, all kinds of things outside were making a racket! I figured I might head to the train house in case something was afoot. So in my slightly inebriated state, I donned my flip-flops , a towel for a loin cloth, my WW1 steel helmet, with a mop, that I swore was my shotgun. Oh, and a half bottle of sourmash in case of a flesh wound. I wandered it seemed for hours out back, getting low on medical supplies I figured I better head back to base camp. Thats when I opened the back door only to be greeted by my wifes family from out of town.
That, my friends IS the Hokie-Pokie dilemma!!!
Hobo Jungle
Ah, those Mississippi rumballs. I keep a couple in my night table drawer. 
what's that mean? i mean this face what's it mean?
San. What's that mean, "jack out"? Sounds like something I might want to try. Not sure. Maybe. What's it mean?
GWOB I love the holidays, anyone else in the best mood ever? And I don't even have trains.
what's that mean? i mean this face what's it mean?
San. What's that mean, "jack out"? Sounds like something I might want to try. Not sure. Maybe. What's it mean?
GWOB I love the holidays, anyone else in the best mood ever? And I don't even have trains.
-
San Diegan
Daisy, jacking out is disconnection and isolation from the matrix.
Remember, there is no spoon.
Jon, glad to hear you are back from your hiatus. The only thing to do in situations like that with your wife's family is to talk and act with deliberation and confidence, like you know exactly what you are doing.
San
Remember, there is no spoon.
Jon, glad to hear you are back from your hiatus. The only thing to do in situations like that with your wife's family is to talk and act with deliberation and confidence, like you know exactly what you are doing.
San
If ya don't have a Bosche, I've got a Black & Decker with "Smart Steam". HOLY CARP! I"VE got that SAME EXACT IRON!! Not kidding. NOT KIDDING. The Black and Decker Pro Finish X720? That must be our connection - we have the same exacct iron! I should've known.
ps. Nice photo of me and the fuzz. If you were around, I really could've used some help you know. Never gotten along too well with Johnny Law. I'm from New Hampshire even though I'm not.
pps. San. Spoon? I'm very confused.
ppps. San. Joe's hooking me up with the skinny on you. Train man my ***.
pppps. This is going to be the best week ever. Is everyone off work? FREEDOM and a hot buttered rum.
ppppps. Jon. Frostbite? On your locomotive? Say it ain't so.
ps. Nice photo of me and the fuzz. If you were around, I really could've used some help you know. Never gotten along too well with Johnny Law. I'm from New Hampshire even though I'm not.
pps. San. Spoon? I'm very confused.
ppps. San. Joe's hooking me up with the skinny on you. Train man my ***.
pppps. This is going to be the best week ever. Is everyone off work? FREEDOM and a hot buttered rum.
ppppps. Jon. Frostbite? On your locomotive? Say it ain't so.
-
San Diegan
Jon,
This isn't quite the same thing, but, shall we say, goes in that direction...
My oldest chimpling resides in San Francisco near the Castro district. She informs me that the above activity describes cross dressers and that "gay apparral" would be employed by a different group. I have fir and don't really know.
San
This isn't quite the same thing, but, shall we say, goes in that direction...
(to be sung to "Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland")
Lacy things -- the wife is missin',
Didn't ask -- her permission,
I'm wearin' her clothes,
Her silk pantyhose,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear.
In the store -- there's a teddy,
Little straps -- like spaghetti,
It holds me so tight,
Like handcuffs at night,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear.
In the office there's a guy named Melvin,
He pretends that I am Murphy Brown.
He'll say, "Are you ready?" I'll say,"Whoa, Man!"
"Let's wait until our wives are out of town!"
Later on, if you wanna,
We can dress -- like Madonna,
Put on some eyeshade,
And join the parade,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear!
Lacy things... missin',
Didn't ask... permission,
Wearin' her clothes,
Her silk pantyhose,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear,
Walkin' 'round in women's underwear!
My oldest chimpling resides in San Francisco near the Castro district. She informs me that the above activity describes cross dressers and that "gay apparral" would be employed by a different group. I have fir and don't really know.
San
Jon, was it anything like this?
THE VISIT
He thought he heard something above the braying of the vacuum, so he toed the machine off. And there it was again—a tapping. A glance out the window and he recognized the car. Addressing the hall mirror, he checked himself, then opened the front door.
“I can’t let you in,” he said through the screen.
“She said that?”
“How’d you know Sue was gone?”
She tossed her hair and glanced around the yard. “I only came by to bring you a gift. What’s going on around here? Everything’s so trimmed up.”
“I’ve been working for days,” he said a bit proudly, opening the screen and stepping out, pulling the main door nearly shut, concerned her cigarette smoke might drift into the house and linger.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Sue’s parents are visiting.”
“No way. From Marblehead?”
“You know that too?”
“She always made that really clear.” Her high heel kicked delicately at the cement step. “Have you met them yet?”
He shook his head.
“Can I come in for a second?”
“She’d kill me. The focking neighbors are probably monitoring this.” He looked around at the other houses as if there might be guns trained on him. All was dead quiet.
“You think I look nice?” she said in a small voice, adjusting her halter top.
“Don’t start.”
“Start?”
“Tammy!” It killed him when she moved like that.
“Isn’t she a bit heavy for you?” she said.
“Come on, don’t start.”
“She make you cut your hair?”
“I need to make a good impression.”
“You think you can impress ten million dollars?”
“They’re not that rich.”
“Oh, sure.” She stroked her sapphire hips. “Hey, you were really good the other night.”
“I saw you with what’s-his-name.”
“Dennis. Yeah, he’s kind of a dweeb. But you were really cranking. Especially on Jumping Jack Flash. They know?”
“Sue’s parents? Not really.”
“You going to tell them?”
“Yeah, of course, but I want them to like, get to know me first.”
“The real you: an all-American crewcut lawn boy—sure. At least you left your sideburns.”
He involuntarily reached for one. “Listen, I gotta go. I got to finish vacuuming.”
“Vacuuming? She gets you to clean the house?”
“Sue didn’t have time before she left.”
“When are they coming?”
“She’s driving them to Maine tonight, but they’re staying at some inn along the coast. They’ll be here in the morning.”
“So why can’t I come in?” She gave him a look.
“Tammy, I got to go.”
She held out a small package in the palm of her hand. “Here. I hope this reminds you of us.” As he took it she dropped her cigarette and twisted it out with her foot.
He watched in agony as her hot pants walked to her car. A shroud of blue smoke and she roused her Camaro, gunned down the street. He surveyed the surrounding buildings again but everything was still dead, as if before a high-noon shoot out. Sue had rented the house and he was still adjusting to the neighborhood. Over the past month he hadn’t noticed much life—just garage doors gliding open as cars returned in the evening, then a few gas grills flavoring the air. He was cautious nonetheless. He had things to do. He had the band to take care of, their CD to bankroll. After that, who knew.
With his boot he flicked Tammy’s squashed filter off the step and went back in the house. He set her carefully wrapped gift on the glass coffee table, not up to the emotion of opening it. After the vacuuming was done, he strapped on a guitar and started playing, reminding himself to hide all his gear in the closet before tomorrow. The house was alien with all its new carpets and furniture—not his taste if he thought about it. Sue had the entire place redone before they moved in. Everything was white or pale blue—the blue matching bird eggs or some shit. And then there was that damn fancy Waterford bowl Sue’s parents had sent for her thirtieth birthday that she was so particular about and that had supposedly cost a fortune. He’d never lived in a place like this. Just looking at it made him thirsty. Jesus, he had a sudden wicked longing for beer. Not one either. Sue rarely drank, sipping a lone cosmopolitan if they went out and leaving half of it. He’d been working on the damn house for two days getting it ready. Her parents would be staying for a week and he knew they didn’t drink at all. Or smoke. Sue had prepped him. They were Quakers or some religion that did nothing fun—not even dance. But hell, was there any reason he shouldn’t enjoy the rest of the day? He deserved a reward. He’d been so damn good not allowing Tammy in the house. A lawn boy, she’d called him. A focking lawn boy.
He walked back outside and fired up his Pontiac wagon. He’d had some great times in this car, hauling the band to gigs, with Tammy on the bench seat, every dent and stain had meaning. Sue wanted to buy him something else, one of those new Volkswagens, a white one, but there was no way he was giving up his ride for that rolling bubble. Man had to draw a line somewhere, even if he had a band counting on him.
He returned with a case of beer, making a mental note to hide the empties and what he didn’t drink. The first one went down in a few pulls, the second like lawn-boy remover. Some Stones on the box, soft August sun wafting through the windows—he strummed along and felt renewed. The Stones understood the blues, being with the wrong woman for the right reason. If only he had some weed, but Sue had placed a moratorium on all that. After the fourth beer he opened Tammy’s gift. Inside the wrapped box was a zip-lock bag with about six gnarled golden—
Mushrooms! He stared at them a moment, picked one out and examined the weightless beauty of it. Why not? he figured. Four, maybe five hours, he’d be back down and it would only be like eight o’clock. No one would know. Not like you could smell it. He chewed up a couple, not wanting to get too high, and uncapped another beer. He nervously wandered around the house waiting to blast off. After about half an hour he was irritated. It was just like Tammy to give him dud fungus. Ha, ha, ha, Tammy, funny joke. “I hope this reminds you of us.” He ate two more. He almost called her to complain but worried that after the six beers he might invite her over and blow everything. Sue would know if she’d been in the house; she was like that. After another half hour of nothing, he angrily downed what was left in the bag.
THE VISIT
He thought he heard something above the braying of the vacuum, so he toed the machine off. And there it was again—a tapping. A glance out the window and he recognized the car. Addressing the hall mirror, he checked himself, then opened the front door.
“I can’t let you in,” he said through the screen.
“She said that?”
“How’d you know Sue was gone?”
She tossed her hair and glanced around the yard. “I only came by to bring you a gift. What’s going on around here? Everything’s so trimmed up.”
“I’ve been working for days,” he said a bit proudly, opening the screen and stepping out, pulling the main door nearly shut, concerned her cigarette smoke might drift into the house and linger.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Sue’s parents are visiting.”
“No way. From Marblehead?”
“You know that too?”
“She always made that really clear.” Her high heel kicked delicately at the cement step. “Have you met them yet?”
He shook his head.
“Can I come in for a second?”
“She’d kill me. The focking neighbors are probably monitoring this.” He looked around at the other houses as if there might be guns trained on him. All was dead quiet.
“You think I look nice?” she said in a small voice, adjusting her halter top.
“Don’t start.”
“Start?”
“Tammy!” It killed him when she moved like that.
“Isn’t she a bit heavy for you?” she said.
“Come on, don’t start.”
“She make you cut your hair?”
“I need to make a good impression.”
“You think you can impress ten million dollars?”
“They’re not that rich.”
“Oh, sure.” She stroked her sapphire hips. “Hey, you were really good the other night.”
“I saw you with what’s-his-name.”
“Dennis. Yeah, he’s kind of a dweeb. But you were really cranking. Especially on Jumping Jack Flash. They know?”
“Sue’s parents? Not really.”
“You going to tell them?”
“Yeah, of course, but I want them to like, get to know me first.”
“The real you: an all-American crewcut lawn boy—sure. At least you left your sideburns.”
He involuntarily reached for one. “Listen, I gotta go. I got to finish vacuuming.”
“Vacuuming? She gets you to clean the house?”
“Sue didn’t have time before she left.”
“When are they coming?”
“She’s driving them to Maine tonight, but they’re staying at some inn along the coast. They’ll be here in the morning.”
“So why can’t I come in?” She gave him a look.
“Tammy, I got to go.”
She held out a small package in the palm of her hand. “Here. I hope this reminds you of us.” As he took it she dropped her cigarette and twisted it out with her foot.
He watched in agony as her hot pants walked to her car. A shroud of blue smoke and she roused her Camaro, gunned down the street. He surveyed the surrounding buildings again but everything was still dead, as if before a high-noon shoot out. Sue had rented the house and he was still adjusting to the neighborhood. Over the past month he hadn’t noticed much life—just garage doors gliding open as cars returned in the evening, then a few gas grills flavoring the air. He was cautious nonetheless. He had things to do. He had the band to take care of, their CD to bankroll. After that, who knew.
With his boot he flicked Tammy’s squashed filter off the step and went back in the house. He set her carefully wrapped gift on the glass coffee table, not up to the emotion of opening it. After the vacuuming was done, he strapped on a guitar and started playing, reminding himself to hide all his gear in the closet before tomorrow. The house was alien with all its new carpets and furniture—not his taste if he thought about it. Sue had the entire place redone before they moved in. Everything was white or pale blue—the blue matching bird eggs or some shit. And then there was that damn fancy Waterford bowl Sue’s parents had sent for her thirtieth birthday that she was so particular about and that had supposedly cost a fortune. He’d never lived in a place like this. Just looking at it made him thirsty. Jesus, he had a sudden wicked longing for beer. Not one either. Sue rarely drank, sipping a lone cosmopolitan if they went out and leaving half of it. He’d been working on the damn house for two days getting it ready. Her parents would be staying for a week and he knew they didn’t drink at all. Or smoke. Sue had prepped him. They were Quakers or some religion that did nothing fun—not even dance. But hell, was there any reason he shouldn’t enjoy the rest of the day? He deserved a reward. He’d been so damn good not allowing Tammy in the house. A lawn boy, she’d called him. A focking lawn boy.
He walked back outside and fired up his Pontiac wagon. He’d had some great times in this car, hauling the band to gigs, with Tammy on the bench seat, every dent and stain had meaning. Sue wanted to buy him something else, one of those new Volkswagens, a white one, but there was no way he was giving up his ride for that rolling bubble. Man had to draw a line somewhere, even if he had a band counting on him.
He returned with a case of beer, making a mental note to hide the empties and what he didn’t drink. The first one went down in a few pulls, the second like lawn-boy remover. Some Stones on the box, soft August sun wafting through the windows—he strummed along and felt renewed. The Stones understood the blues, being with the wrong woman for the right reason. If only he had some weed, but Sue had placed a moratorium on all that. After the fourth beer he opened Tammy’s gift. Inside the wrapped box was a zip-lock bag with about six gnarled golden—
Mushrooms! He stared at them a moment, picked one out and examined the weightless beauty of it. Why not? he figured. Four, maybe five hours, he’d be back down and it would only be like eight o’clock. No one would know. Not like you could smell it. He chewed up a couple, not wanting to get too high, and uncapped another beer. He nervously wandered around the house waiting to blast off. After about half an hour he was irritated. It was just like Tammy to give him dud fungus. Ha, ha, ha, Tammy, funny joke. “I hope this reminds you of us.” He ate two more. He almost called her to complain but worried that after the six beers he might invite her over and blow everything. Sue would know if she’d been in the house; she was like that. After another half hour of nothing, he angrily downed what was left in the bag.
Last edited by Tramp on Tue Dec 21, 2004 12:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
-
San Diegan
When he found consciousness again, he was staring at a square object attached to one of the pulsing white walls. If only he could figure the thing out, he would have the solution to everything. The glowing black hands were so lovely and the way the red one kept rotating evenly past the strange little symbols. He tried and tried. Eventually he gave up, laughing hysterically. A bell began to ring and he jerked around, terrified. Four times it jangled like a warning or a message from the beyond. Seemed to be coming out of that pale rectangular thing with the umbilical cord. Then a voice spoke—familiar, female, but he couldn’t place it. How could a voice be coming out of that shimmering box? He backed away and staggered around the place, occasionally knocking into something. A vase toppled. The transformation into so many pieces was at first perplexing, then funny, then incredibly sad. He sifted through the shards, crying.
It took him a long time to realize where he was. He finally recognized the house. It was leaching energy out of him. He had to get out of there.
Out in the yard, he breathed with intense relief. It had been a narrow escape. He lay in the mown grass, rolled around the yard, barking. Spotted his car and was overwhelmed by affection. He opened the door and caressed the bench seat. The seat! Tammy’s juices had stained this seat. Tears were in his eyes as he got his tool box out of the back of the wagon and started to unbolt the beast from the floor. It was hard work but the thing had to be freed. He dragged it out into the yard and felt wonderful as he leaned back—but thirsty. There was beer in the house. Could he risk it?
As he entered the vibrating portal he heard the bell again and almost ran back outside, but the suction off those cold wet bottles was greater. The voice again. He laughed madly. He knew who it was! He couldn’t be fooled. It was Sue. He knew her— He stopped abruptly. Thank God she was in the box! What did she mean by the enclosed? She was in clothes? Well, so was he. What an odd girl. Inn closed. He got a beer out of the case and dropped it. Sadness again until he noticed there were more. So many more. What a lovely sight. He felt very lucky and blew a great sigh of relief. As he walked toward the front door his eyes locked onto a luminescent cradle of light, the crystal of the bowl refracting a stray beam of sunlight. For him it was the half orb of all knowledge. He decided to bring it out to the bench seat and talk to it, discuss a few important things. The steps rose up and swayed gently like liquid. Somehow hanging on to the beer and the bowl wasn’t possible. He shivered and tingled with the sound, but he kept his beer—he needed that and took a long sip. Bowls of knowledge were misleading anyway. The crystal fanned out across the steps and caught the evening light and he realized he had lots of knowledge fragments. He decided to line them up almost like a landing strip. Invite alien intelligence to visit him. Ordering the lines was exhausting, yet he was convinced of the importance of the task and continued religiously until the pattern was complete. He stood back and admired the neat rows when another shaft of brilliance struck him. When the aliens came they would need a comfortable place to sit. He considered sharing the bench seat but shook his head violently.
He had removed half the living-room furniture and arranged it in the yard—the white of the fabric dazzling—when he realized his hands felt funny. Some kind of warm liquid was still coming out of them. Crystalline fragments of knowledge were dangerous. He licked his fingers but preferred beer. The liquid was getting on his clothes though. Not good at all. He carefully removed his boots, jeans and shirt. The underwear seemed to come off by itself. My God, why hadn’t he thought of this before? Of course! Sue must have said that he should remove his clothes. Not Inn-closed—out of clothes. She was looking out for him. He got teary at the tenderness of it—so wonderfully thoughtful. Tammy, too. He knew she was true to him even if he couldn’t remember how. But she had been! He knew she had. And then he saw her walk away again in those hot pants. “Tammy,” he mumbled. “Tammy.” Something ached in the middle of his body. He had never seen it so big and purple. “Just look at that thing,” he said extravagantly as he began to stroke it. It felt indescribably good. The aliens would have to wait. He settled into one of the fancy chairs and closed his eyes. Tammy flooded his mind and he believed she was touching him, her wiggling firm body suspended over him like a huge drop of dew on a stem. “Oh, Tammy,” he cried. “Oh, baby, oh, Tammy, you crazy little sex-slot, you fock-me doll.” A wet heat soaked his stomach as he writhed in the blood-stained chair. He heard something and opened his eyes. A strange man in a blue blazer with gold buttons was standing there with an unusual expression. Next to him was an even stranger woman with a horrible slack mouth. He began to panic until he spotted a third person. He smiled.
“Sue,” he said. “I’m so happy. They let you out of that box.”
It took him a long time to realize where he was. He finally recognized the house. It was leaching energy out of him. He had to get out of there.
Out in the yard, he breathed with intense relief. It had been a narrow escape. He lay in the mown grass, rolled around the yard, barking. Spotted his car and was overwhelmed by affection. He opened the door and caressed the bench seat. The seat! Tammy’s juices had stained this seat. Tears were in his eyes as he got his tool box out of the back of the wagon and started to unbolt the beast from the floor. It was hard work but the thing had to be freed. He dragged it out into the yard and felt wonderful as he leaned back—but thirsty. There was beer in the house. Could he risk it?
As he entered the vibrating portal he heard the bell again and almost ran back outside, but the suction off those cold wet bottles was greater. The voice again. He laughed madly. He knew who it was! He couldn’t be fooled. It was Sue. He knew her— He stopped abruptly. Thank God she was in the box! What did she mean by the enclosed? She was in clothes? Well, so was he. What an odd girl. Inn closed. He got a beer out of the case and dropped it. Sadness again until he noticed there were more. So many more. What a lovely sight. He felt very lucky and blew a great sigh of relief. As he walked toward the front door his eyes locked onto a luminescent cradle of light, the crystal of the bowl refracting a stray beam of sunlight. For him it was the half orb of all knowledge. He decided to bring it out to the bench seat and talk to it, discuss a few important things. The steps rose up and swayed gently like liquid. Somehow hanging on to the beer and the bowl wasn’t possible. He shivered and tingled with the sound, but he kept his beer—he needed that and took a long sip. Bowls of knowledge were misleading anyway. The crystal fanned out across the steps and caught the evening light and he realized he had lots of knowledge fragments. He decided to line them up almost like a landing strip. Invite alien intelligence to visit him. Ordering the lines was exhausting, yet he was convinced of the importance of the task and continued religiously until the pattern was complete. He stood back and admired the neat rows when another shaft of brilliance struck him. When the aliens came they would need a comfortable place to sit. He considered sharing the bench seat but shook his head violently.
He had removed half the living-room furniture and arranged it in the yard—the white of the fabric dazzling—when he realized his hands felt funny. Some kind of warm liquid was still coming out of them. Crystalline fragments of knowledge were dangerous. He licked his fingers but preferred beer. The liquid was getting on his clothes though. Not good at all. He carefully removed his boots, jeans and shirt. The underwear seemed to come off by itself. My God, why hadn’t he thought of this before? Of course! Sue must have said that he should remove his clothes. Not Inn-closed—out of clothes. She was looking out for him. He got teary at the tenderness of it—so wonderfully thoughtful. Tammy, too. He knew she was true to him even if he couldn’t remember how. But she had been! He knew she had. And then he saw her walk away again in those hot pants. “Tammy,” he mumbled. “Tammy.” Something ached in the middle of his body. He had never seen it so big and purple. “Just look at that thing,” he said extravagantly as he began to stroke it. It felt indescribably good. The aliens would have to wait. He settled into one of the fancy chairs and closed his eyes. Tammy flooded his mind and he believed she was touching him, her wiggling firm body suspended over him like a huge drop of dew on a stem. “Oh, Tammy,” he cried. “Oh, baby, oh, Tammy, you crazy little sex-slot, you fock-me doll.” A wet heat soaked his stomach as he writhed in the blood-stained chair. He heard something and opened his eyes. A strange man in a blue blazer with gold buttons was standing there with an unusual expression. Next to him was an even stranger woman with a horrible slack mouth. He began to panic until he spotted a third person. He smiled.
“Sue,” he said. “I’m so happy. They let you out of that box.”
Last edited by Tramp on Tue Dec 21, 2004 9:01 am, edited 2 times in total.
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