Wednesday, August 19, 2015

270. Tripping

C.W. just came in as a, well I don’t know what … a man in his mid-twenties wearing a Ted Nugent tee-shirt and his hat that says “Remembur Gettisbirg.” He was wearing a small back pack and announced that he was ready to go.

“Go where?” I asked.

“Costa Rica.”


“You heard me fool, call Mrs. Big Dope’s cousin and make arrangements.”

Now my wife’s cousin works for an airline company and sometimes has limited free “stand by” tickets for family or friends, certainly not for aliens and especially not for C.W.

“No can do,” I said, “use your Digitally Operated Nuclear Getabout,” I said.

“It’s dead,” he said.

“Your DO…”

“Dead,” he said, “I’m grounded.”

I thought. “Was it that little trip you made to Thailand?”

“The Elders have grounded me,” he said, ignoring my question.

“But why do you want to go to Costa Rica?”

“To see Lisa.”

“Do you mean Lisa at “All Hat, No Cattle?"

“She’s the digit indicating a single unit.”

“If she is the one,” I said, “why do you want to see her?”

“She’s unpacking.”

“So I heard, but how does that concern you? I’ve never known you to be much help when there was work to be done.”

“I need a new pistol,” he said, “so if she is unpacking, maybe she will give me hers.”

“Her what?”

“Her pistol. Didn’t you hear me say she was unpacking?”

“Uh, C.W. …,”

“Call me Jerry Bob Tex,” he said.

“C.W.,”  I said. “I don’t think that’s what she means by ‘unpacking’ at all.”

“Whut chew mean?”

“She’s moved into a new office and is unpacking her things.”

“Whut things?”

“Her research materials, computer, and office supplies.”

“She ain’t got no pistol?”

“I hardly think so.”

“Dad gummit.”

“What would you do with a pistol, anyway?”

“Protect myself and my family.”

I still may visit there if they will allow me to
 carry my belt-fed, fully automatic, 7.62 mm, M60
Machine Gun into the Walmart store. - C.W.
“You don’t have a family,” I said, “and besides, who do you need protecting from?”

“Uh,” he said. “Them liberuls, like whut they talk about on that Fox channel.”

“I don’t think liberals attack people these days,” I said, “and besides, you don’t even know how to use a pistol.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it,” he said, “you just wait until the evildoers shows up in your bedroom to do you harm and then you run and git your pistol and let them have it. Ain’t that right?”

“In the words of Barney Frank,” I said, “May I ask what planet you woke up on this morning?”

 Please click some ads. I need to do a lot of traveling.
Finally, buy Big Dope's book so he'll shut up about it.
- C.W.

Available at major on-line retailers, or

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