Friday, September 23, 2016

Hey, Kid! I'll take ya down to the club and introduce you to Bubbles!

"Cool!" said the kid. " I want to check her out." He instinctively knew I was talkin' trash. He's about 14.

His mother looked shocked for a second and recovered quickly. She gave me a sort of embarrassed and slightly annoyed look.

Good old Bubbles. Every guy knows who she is. To some she is tall and curvy, to others short and cute but to everyone she is busty, has big hair and most important of all doesn't have a brain in her head. She believes what you tell her. She thinks I am a professor of Asian languages because I told her I was.

"What time are you free?" I asked the kid.

"I get off of practice at eight tonight," he said.

"I'll pick you up," I said. I turned to his mother. "You got the night off. We'll be home by about nine."

"Thank you," she said. She knew I wasn't taking the kid out to some dive. We'd likely stop off and grab a chocolate milk or something and just go for a drive. It was a sultry evening and perfect for a ride in a convertible.

"When we get to Thunder Alley," I said to the kid. "You'll hop out with the flashlight and you'll start the race. I don't want you in the car when I hang it out on Dead Man's Curve."

"Thank you," said his mother, dryly.

It's interesting how young guys intuitively pick up on when an older guy is being sarcastic. 

One day I saw him in the yard with his mom and stopped. The city was putting in concrete sidewalks and I commented that there was not a concrete crew that could keep my initials off of fresh concrete back in the day. He grinned.

I explained to him that I never used MY initials or name on fresh concrete. I always wrote 'Louie' so I didn't get in trouble. Louie wound up getting the ass chewing instead of me. That one drew a look. It was a couple of years ago and the kid looked a bit shocked.

The mother gave me a dirty look the time I told him that if he got himself a white T-shirt I'd teach him to roll a pack of Luckies into his sleeve. Then she recovered and shook her head. "Hmm." said the kid, amused.

Then I told him to grow his hair a couple of inches longer and I'd teach him to comb it into a duck's ass and jellyroll.

"Like the Fonz?" asked his mom, rolling here eyes.

"More like John Travolta," I said. "The Fonz didn't have a jellyroll on top," I turned to the kid. "Ya need Dixie Peach pomade for a haircut like that. You can go 120 mph in a '57 Chevy convertible with the top down and not a hair out of place!"

"Oh, God," said his mother. The kid laughed. Then I think she pictured her son looking like an Old School Rexall Ranger and cringed.

Seperation is rough on kids and even though his dad has done the best he can to stay in his children's life things are limited. While his dad is a friend of mine, so is his mom. I refuse to take side in matters like this unless it is to prevent violence which is not the case here.

It's funny watching the kid smirk when I say things like that. He's sharp enough to know I'm in sarcasm mode and he's starting to pick up on it a little. When I started doing stuff like this a couple of years ago he'd look horrified. Now he smirks. He perks up when he hears me address him as 'Hey, Kid,' because he knows I'm going to hit him with something off the wall. 

"Hey, Kid! Swing by the next time you see me in the yard and I'll teach you how to catch a smoke in the boy's room without getting caught!" 

He laughed at that one and his mother shook her head. He's an athlete and is smart enough not to fall into that trap.

"Hey, Kid! Whatcha drinkin' these days? Next time I stick up a liquor store I'll snag you a bottle!"

His mother wasn't in earshot when I said that and he laughed like hell.

It's fun watching him pick up on things because even two years ago my sarcasm would go over his head. His eyes would open wide and his jaw would drop.

Time is passing and he is growing more confident in himself and it won't be long before he starts the banter in full swing.

I once told him I'd teach him to drive a stick when he got his learner's permit and he thanked me.

"Kid, don't thank me," I said. "I'm just tryna help you wit college tuition. Ya can take two, maybe three 'vettes outta them strip club parking lots a night on Fridays and Saturdays. The chop shop'll give ya too, maybe tree grand apiece for 'em. You could get a PhD with no college debt that way. Ya gotta know how to drive a stick, though. Anything to help a young guy get an education. I'll have a word wit da boys when the time comes."

"Gee, thanks!" he said, snickering. I knew what his interpretation was. Piccolo will teach him to drive a stick when he gets his learner's permit. Nothing more, nothing less.

He's actually a fairly serious minded kid and 100% honest which is why I am comfortable teasing him this way. He's already saving every dime he can for college. He's a science kinda kid and I think that my teasing him that way keeps him from becoming a bit too nerdy.

If he wasn't a damned good kid I wouldn't waste my time on him. 

I might grab him for another evening ride in the Mazda when the weather gets a little crisper. He'd like that.

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY

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