Posts Tagged With: conjugal visit

Family Matters

I went with Allison to her niece’s Quinceanera down in Pilsen last Saturday afternoon. While I’ve met several of her relatives over the last couple of couple of years, this was my first opportunity to meet her sister’s 2nd husband, Ray.

Upon first inspection, Ray looked like the guy who’s always ready for a fight and the type of guy who, if he had a choice of steak and lobster or sardines and crackers for his last meal, he would choose the later because that’s what his old man used to live on. Probably the same old man that would let him have it with an extension cord for letting the screen door slam. That said, I could understand why I was the only adult male guest and why the uncles and neighborhood men had other, more urgent matters to attend.

After about an hour of drinking and listening to him tell me about life on the road, I sensed that he knew every methadone clinic and adult book store from here to Arkansas. Evidently he’s a retired trucker of twenty-six years, as well as expert carpenter. Which I could easily tell by that fine example of a shed he’s built over the last three and a half summers. He goes on to tell me that he didn’t actually retire, but has been on disability for the last three years due to a hearing loss. However, I didn’t see any hearing aids, so I guess plenty of cold beer must help out with that.

So, while all of the women were either socializing or paying homage to the birthday girl, I realized that I haven’t had a conversation with a piece of white trash of his caliber since the family station wagon broke down in Florida about twenty-five years ago, and without any intimate knowledge of NASCAR or hate crime techniques, the only thing I could think of to do was compliment him on his cheap, bought-at-a-roadside-fruit-stand-looking bracelet he was wearing. He goes on to tell me that he bought it outside Choctaw tribal lands in Oklahoma and he is, indeed, 1/16th Choctaw.

I was clearly in a rut, as for the next ninety minutes I’m stuck sitting in the 100 degree shade with Tonto, hoping that a swarm of locusts appears and we’d all have to run for our lives, because our conversation had grown stale and 99% of the time when that happens to men talking, it usually means that its time to either to check out the other guy’s tool collection or make a run to the liquor store. Neither of which I really wanted to do. But as fate would have it, Ray entertained me by exercising his Choctaw spirit as I watched him throw his hatchet at his already half dead tree for thirty minutes. Which makes me wonder if he gets anxious living in Pilsen, given that probably more guys down there wear cowboy hats than any other part of the city.

By now it was obvious that Allison wasn’t going to do anything to help me escape and I knew that whatever excuse I could use to get away could justify some sort of acting out on his part, and one doesn’t want to upset a drunk guy sharpening a hatchet, all the while explaining that the swastika was actually a Native American symbol for luck. Funny thing is that I don’t know how that became part of our conversation, and needless to say, at this point I’m now 100% sure that I do not want my picture taken with him and someday have it plastered all over Nancy Grace.

Four more beers and ninety minutes later, about the only words to come out of his mouth that I could finally agree on was that he was tired of listening to Rihanna and Pit Bull, and he abruptly went inside to get one of his own mix tapes. So after maybe five hit songs from the 70’s and 80’s, we now had thirty teenage girls and boys sulking, and Ray staring at all of the moms like he was contemplating his next conjugal visit. And as Ray is playing his air drums, reliving his glory days, without any warning, Ray stands up and says he wants to dance with the birthday girl (his step-daughter). Um, ok, but I don’t think that Paradise By The Dashboard Light is an appropriate song, you know? This sent the mom running over to cool his jets and to get the Quinceanera out of harms way and I was sure that by now his wife surely realized that she was wrong to think that she was trading up when she married him fours years ago.

Finally, Allison meanders over and tells me loud enough for Ray to hear, that we should get going so we’re still able to find a parking spot back home. Upon hearing this, Ray tells me to stay put as he’s got something to show me. I knew this was an opportunity to make a dash to the car, but Allison insisted that I say goodbye to her grandma before we left, which gave Ray enough time to find the flare gun he bought at a garage sale last month. His wife, however, assured us and everyone else standing on the brown grass, that she had thrown away the flares earlier that morning. And while Ray heard what she said and made a bee line to the alley to search through the garbage cans, he didn’t know that she threw them in the trash can outside of the bakery when she picked up the cake that morning.

Categories: Northside View | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

If you are not here, please raise your hand

I was hanging out at the Green Mill last night, when I get a call on my cell around 1:30, and it’s Marty. He’s been out with his skank girlfriend, they’re too drunk to find their car, and they’re asking if I can come up there and help them find it. Sure, I got nothing better to do, like the Elisa Cuthbert (Alison) I’ve been drinking with the last ninety minutes.

When is this guy going to get it right? First off, the Courtney Love-wannabe skank he’s been dating the last year and a half thinks he’s sexy sporting the Emo look. Um, I don’t think dressing like a confused sixteen-year-old boy is the best thing for a thirty-six year old man, but what do I know. What started out as a near-sighted date, really took off once they once they went to Lollapalooza. He was gone for three days and came back looking brainwashed. Since then he’s all about “Skank”, as we call her.

But, frankly, some people may look at him and think she was made-to-order for him. As long as I’ve known him, he’s been the one to do something really weird or stupid. I guess to bring attention to himself. A couple of summers ago me and a bunch of guys (incl Marty) went down to Evansville, IN to gamble on their boat and at a nearby horse track in Kentucky.

So, we’re at the track surrounded by legions of rednecks and we’re all three sheets in the wind from drinking beer and smoking cheap cigars. We had a box next to about fifteen 4-wheel-driving,  deer-huntin’, possum-eatin’ union boys and we (both realms of reality) had been having a great time buying rounds and talking football, mma, Megan Fox vs. Halle Berry, and the regular macho what-not, when Marty has a fit with our server because he can’t get one of his vaginally-challenged mixed drinks. Don’t get me wrong, But I don’t think even Tony Soprano would stand there and try to order a Caribbean Breeze at a horse track in Kentucky, literally, “down by the river”. Am I right or am I right?

Back to this morning, I explained to my Elisa Cuthbert what was going on and she offered to ride up there before I could even say “sorry”.  Fifteen minutes later we’re outside looking into the window of Ricky G’s on Western (cool little place if you have the chance to go) and we see Marty and Skank making out at the bar, like it was a conjugal visit.

I grab Marty and Skank throw them into our cab and got them home safely. In fact, they made out the entire cab ride home AND she had a “wardrobe malfunction” on the elevator going up to Marty’s. But now I had to pay them back for possibly screwing up my blue light time with Elisa. As Marty, Skank and Elisa were in the kitchen, I went to the bathroom to pull a switcharoo. Now, I’m no genius, but I was sure they had a 99.9% chance of having sex.  So, me being me, I emptied the little KY bottle and filled it with his Germ X Sanitizer. I haven’t heard from him yet, so maybe they enjoyed it.

Categories: Northside View | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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