Friday, July 22, 2011
It was good to hang out with Marti and her friends that night. I'm just a little upset that none of her friends ever called me afterwards. I mean, come on, they were all OVER THE HILL so if any weren't married, it's not like I was out of their league. Give a skeleton a chance...
|I'm a Manly Man, um, skeleton.|
|So, before you go assuming that all I do is sit around and rot, give me a hug and tell me what you think.|
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
After we talked about what the trike could do, I asked if he would take me for a ride. You know what, he did. And it was the first and only time I have been on a motorcycle. I really think Papa enjoyed it more than me. Walter said he saw a look on his father's face that day that had been missing. Papa Goff was like a kid again. He was about to ride around his neighborhood with a skeleton on the back of his trike and it made him happy.
The wind blew through his hair and over my bald head. His eyes watered and my eye sockets were bare. He wore protective shoes and I propped my foot on one footpeg and my stub on the other. I was free. As Walter likes to put it, I was "Enjoying life." I really was. This one time I got to spend with Papa Goff will live on in my memory for as long as I continue to exist.
In loving memory of Morris Levy Goff Jr.
May 2, 1943 - March 11, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
He looked at me. I stared him down. His hand reached beneath the counter and I braced the table in case something awful was headed my way. He whipped out a paper hat and tossed it to me. I slipped it onto my newly polished chrome dome and gave him an evil grin. He knew I was hungry and said if I was gonna get yesterday's donuts, I had to prove that I was worthy of eating them.
I jumped the counter and grabbed a broom. In 30 seconds, I swept every inch of that place. Next he handed me a mop. In just under 5 minutes, I had that place spic and span clean. Every chore he gave me was completed in a fraction of the time it took a mortal. Finally an idea came to his mind and he asked me to put on some plastic gloves. Let's just say that isn't the easiest thing to do when you are missing a digit and balancing yourself on one foot.
He took me around to the back of the shop where the flour lay before me on a waist-high table. He demonstrated how to roll the perfect donut. Big whoop. He freakin took a small cup and cut out a hole in the dough and tossed them both into the hot grease. I wasn't having this. I was set to start new things and set this place on fire.(Actually literally in once instance, but I'm not telling you that story right now. Remind me and I will tell you later).
I took the flour and kneed it like a professional. I cut his simple little "holes" and tossed them into the vat of boiling polyunsaturated bliss. They each puffed up beautifully every time. Again, I still wasn't happy. I wanted more. I deserved more. I took some dough and twisted it. Other dough was pressed and pinched until it was in the shape of a star. I took some dough and filled it with creme, some with custard and other with jelly. I was a genius in the art of making pastries. Soon I had the idea to use melted chocolate and an iced glaze concoction on my pastries. Still others were coated in a blizzard of white powered sugar. You would have been amazed at the things I created for that shop keeper. In one day, I had gone from sweeping and mopping his floors to creating the best pastries Crapsville had ever tasted. Unfortunately, there is a downside to my story.
The only other customer in the store that day was the health inspector. Lol. Seems he had something to say about the owner/shop keeper taking a homeless skeleton off the street, making him sweep and mop then immediately begin frying pastries without even allowing him to wash his hands. Oh, those were the minutes.... To this day, I can't pass by this place without a good chuckle.... So, if you are ever in Crapsville and find yourself standing in a bakery without a dime to your name, remember this one thing, WASH YOUR NASTY HANDS IF YOU EXPECT TO GET PAID!!!!
On a dark and stormy night on a little river named Coochee Creek, I found myself floating downstream at a rather mediocre pace. The mosquitoes were buzzing and the water was reeking from trash and debris. Something brushed my leg and sent a chill up my spine. Not the frightening kinda chill. You know, the good kind. Anyway, I knew that something big was beneath me and I wasn't about to let it get away.
Being the resourceful skeleton I was, I quickly surveyed the situation and saw that I had no pole. I had no fish hook. I had no string. I had no bobber. I had no bait. Crap. How did I actually expect to catch this monster fish? I would be the laughing stock of Coochee Creek if I didn't find SOME WAY to land him. What was I to do? What could I use for bait? Then it hit me. It hit me HARD. The fish, silly, not some clever idea. It kept ramming my legs and knocking me around the creek. It about flipped me upside down one time and finally bolted to the far side of the creek when I noticed it turned and came for me once again. By this time I was fuming (probably as a direct result of my interior composition decomposing in the raw sewage that had been dumped into this creek). I had had enough. I was gonna catch this fish and I knew exactly how to do it.
Now by this time, that stupid fish had me sideways. I didn't know which way was north, south, east or west. I didn't know if I was going up or down the creek. I didn't know if the fish was alone or in a school. All I knew was that I had quit enjoying that little chill he sent up my spine. I wanted it to stop and I was just the skeleton to do it. Besides, who else was there to help me???
I saw the ripple of the water as it came near me. The water swirled. The water sprayed. The water did things I have never seen water do before. Hmm, now that I think about it, maybe I was just in the water and heat and mosquitoes too long and was beginning to imagine things. What I do know is that the fish was headed straight towards me. Right as it was about to ram my legs, I spread them, made a fist and I punched that fish so hard, his lips quivered, his mouth opened and my arm was soon all the way inside him. He clamped down on my arm as I grabbed a hold of whatever internal organs I could find. He took me to the bottom of the creek and thrust back and forth like a bucking horse. Soon we were headed towards the surface. Before I knew it, we were both airborne and as I opened my eyes, all I could see was this very same dock where I'm sitting today. I reached out and found myself clinging to a rotting piece of wood with one hand and some half-digested swamp rat in the other. I almost lost my lunch right then, but I knew this was no longer a game. It was him or me. Do or die. Sink or swim. Yada yada yada..... I held on and when all hope was gone, I felt my finger dislodge, break off and get stuck deep in the fish's throat. After an epic battle, the fish wound up choking to death on my digit.