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SMALL-HEAD TED REVISITED
Thank you so much for all your condolences regarding Small Head Ted. They mean so much to Liana and me.
It turns out people who knew Ol' Ted previously read my tribute to him and contacted us.
Boy were we wrong about Old Skeds having a woman owner.
- Teddy had two previous male owners.
- They both passed away.
I always felt like Teddy was waiting for his owner to come back. Teddy was just waiting for me to die and threw in all his cards with Liana. That explains a lot. It makes me love him so much more, but also makes me sad I didn't know this when he was alive.
Farewell, Small Head Ted. It was an honor sharing part of my life with part of yours.
CRAZY UNCLE DONNY'S TIPS FOR ENDURING YOUR FIFTIES WITHOUT BEING INVOLUNTARILY COMMITTED
1) Whenever Kurt Cobain, Phil Hartman, John Candy, Len Bias, or that guy from Blind Melon, etc. is mentioned in casual conversation, make sure to let everyone know you were alive when they died, and how sad you were when you heard they were dead. Also- make sure to let everyone know how sad you'll be when Danny DeVito snuffs it and how you hope it's not going to be a police shoot-out.
2) Hate all new music the way your parents hated your music growing up. Also refuse to listen to any new music. Excuse yourself from hearing any new music because it's "Not Music." Important: insist for years to everyone that you aren't like your parents one bit when it comes to music.
3) Make up stories about your back hurting. Retell everyone often and without any prompting. That way no one will ask you to help them move all their possessions into a 3rd floor apartment. Don't even let them borrow your truck because your back hurts so bad.
4) Mention awesome yet defunct and never popular TV shows you loved like "Police Squad," "Alf," "Web Soup" or "Mall Cops."
Or just regale some bits you saw on Tosh.0. The political incorrectness will ensure the youngsters won't hit you up for donations to just the stupidest causes you can imagine. Like the high school science fair or a free CPR course.
5) The differences before and after 9-11 is a high-ground you should never cede. Let everyone know what it was like before and after that fateful day in long, rambling half-stories that never quite seem to come together.
For example, I tell the story about how the 9-11 atrocity ruined my dreams of flying to Las Vegas in a full gorilla costume. This would have been possible pre-911, but the terrorists stole that dream from me. Forever.
This was more than a stoned laugh. Liana and I bought a very convincing ape costume. We had a screenplay all written out. It was called "Mr. Ape Goes to Vegas." It started with Mr. Ape waking up in Seattle, having bananas for breakfast, throwing feces at select pedestrians, and hailing a cab to the airport.
After being annoyed by just about everything on his flight and losing his luggage, Mr. Ape is seen joyfully running with his hands over his head into The Bellagio with a drink in his hand. Possibly a daiquiri. or a Cucumber Cooler, or just a Red Bull.
If you think I'm lying, just ask Liana.
6) Eat gross, stupid stuff. I'm not talking kale or tofu. I'm talking corned beef hash, black licorice, handfuls of green olives, and cold hot dogs. And mention lackadaisically that you would like a glass of the water the hot dogs were boiled in with 2, and ONLY TWO ice cubes. Guaranteed to shut these pipsqueaks up so you can grab plenty of elbow room at the table.
7) ALWAYS let someone buy you a drink and ALWAYS reciprocate that drink. NEVER let someone or anyone pay your whole bar tab, and ALWAYS regard them with suspicion. Why would they want to know you had 112 whiskeys, 6 Zombies, and 581 White Wine Spritzers in under 28 days? They must be trying to discredit you politically.
Objections, threats, syntax / grammar corrections, and obvious dirty jokes can be sent here: fatmax@twosaltydogs.net
WE LOVE HATE MAIL!
GO AWAY, YOU STUPID PIRATE!!
One of the great things I can claim in my life is that I've been threatened by a pirate. Liana acknowledges my life was indeed threatened by a pirate, but insists my sweet, sweet booty had nothing to do with it.
I disagree. Given the correlation between global warming and the declining number of pirates worldwide, I feel incredibly lucky.
Click on the photo above for proof.
I forget why I was at Harborside. It might have been because the Newagen was closed for a Knitting / Quilting conference for the week (True story), and/or I would have had to park in Robinson's satellite lot; an unacceptable 15-second walk away from the bar.
I did my usual thing. I sat at the far end of the bar, away from everyone and opened up my laptop.
The bar started to fill up. I slid down to the very end of the bar next to the column when a couple wanted to consolidate seats. They talked to each other and I worked on my "stupid stuff." We left each other alone.
Enter "The Pirate" on the other side of The Couple.
He didn't have an eye-patch or a parrot or sword or any jewels or anything like that. He just told The Couple he was a pirate. He wasn't a pirate of yore, he assured them. Pirates of the current day had grand experiences and rarely decapitated folks, and / or stole their booty. I'm sure he had some kind of official card from The Modern American Pirate Association, but he was obviously reluctant to show it to the common rabble.
The Couple was on vacation and apparently in the mood for some free entertainment.
The Pirate was chatty. He drank warm Pabst-Tall-Boys he pulled from a backpack. He wore a wifebeater. The Couple asked him all kinds of questions and he responded with a bravado that was proportionate to the vat of Pabst his brain was swimming in.
I typed away. I felt like I was making progress towards being humorous. Then again, I might have only been humorous to people who had 6 whiskeys in under an hour. And that was an unacceptably small market. I had to do better.
Eventually, all the warm Pabsts convinced The Pirate that The Couple was not a large enough audience to contain his hilarity and vivacity. He gauged that the large, ribald party of five to his right would be hard to enchant. His eyes fell upon me.
Poor, defenseless me.
"Hey! You come all the way up here on vacation to work? Loosen up!" he shouted across the bar.
I knew this was coming. The whiskey made it surprisingly easy to ignore him. Then again it made the bile rise to the back of my throat when some transient identified me as a tourist in my own town.
When some people see me at the end of the bar on my laptop, they assume I'm writing about them. Others think I'm deficient. Yet others read it for what it is: some kind of social incompetent or I need someone to reach out and draw me out of my shell. Pure codswallop. If you're interesting, I'll engage you. If not, I'll politely brush you off.
I toasted him politely with a head-nod and a "Salud." I went back to my writing.
The Pirate turned to The Couple and said, "Can you believe that guy!?!?"
I ignored him. I wanted nothing to do with him. I was in a writing groove. The Couple was looking at me quizzically, like I was some kind of summertime Ebeneezer Scrooge. Or at the least they thought I was a "special" kind of guy.
The Pirate leaned over the bar and yelled, "Where are you from?!?!"
"Oh Boy! Here we go again," I thought. "There's no stopping it now." I ignored him as best I could and typed away.
"Where do you work... Besides here!?!" He looked at The Couple gleefully, like he caught a fish and needed their approval. Or at the very least he caught me in some unsolvable conundrum or lie.
I took another pull off my whiskey. "It's none of your business. Leave me alone...."
The blunt rejection set him back a bit, but the Pabst was flowing through him like The Force. He continued trying to get a response from me.
Finally, I looked him directly in the eyes and said flatly and with finality, "Just leave me alone... I don't want to be part of your circus act."
That set him off, and he started yelling not-at-all nice things at me over The Couple. They became very distressed.
I smiled at the pirate sardonically. I even blew a kiss at him and winked at him. I knew I was escalating things and egging him on. I couldn't help it. Things were cascading out of control because he couldn't tolerate my indifference to his self-cultivated happy-go-lucky Pirate character that he was ramming down my throat.
He threatened to beat me up in the parking lot. Then he offered to beat me up in the restaurant. I started shouting back. I just wanted him to leave me alone. And for those of you who have never met me, allow me to say I have a very loud, deep voice that is ideal for shouting over heavy machinery on large civil construction sites. I did not hold back, and everyone in Harborside heard me.
My adrenaline was surging. I just remembered bawling at The Pirate over and over, "JUST SHUT UP AND GO AWAY YOU STUPID PIRATE!!" And my ass never left the bar seat.
I hadn't been in a bar fight in over 30 years. The ones I remembered were pretty lame affairs over some dull girl, a mistaken gesture, or one party or the other having too much to drink. All I remembered about fighting was to body punch with my left and go for the head with my right. I also vaguely remembered what a terrible fighter I was.
After an embarrassing couple minutes of this back and forth, the staff "escorted" the now Screaming Pirate out of the building with his warm-Pabst-laden backpack. Once he was outside, Harborside was completely silent. All eyes were on me. I stole a sideways look at The Couple. They both had their arms crossed and were staring at the bar. The man had his credit card out. Luckily, the adrenaline made me lucid.
"Enjoying your stay in Boothbay Harbor?"
The Couple chuckled. Things got back to busy in Harborside. I apologized to them. They were dismissive. I bought them a round. There were no hard feelings.
They asked me what I did. I owned the pet store in town. I asked them where they were staying. They said a place called The Coal Shack.
I smiled and told them that my wife and I owned it.
They've rented it every year since then. And every year I put an authentic certificate in there that says, "This Rental is a Pirate-Free Zone."
~ Don (Not a Dog)
