Monday, March 1, 2010

The Good, the Bad, and the Naked Ugly

It’s easy to forget at times but the little moments are really the best part of life. This was something that I had forgotten over the last couple of weeks dealing with the normal array of shit that often has me questioning the validity of God’s plan for the universe and the cosmic joke that can be my life. 

You may ask what had gotten Beach Bum waxing philosophically again risking a Zeus-like lightning bolt from the Big Guy upstairs tired of the constant whining coming from one petty human and the questioning his omnipotent authority. The Big Guy upstairs has a whole host of problems from the easy to the impossible. His concerns range from answering the prayers of species on a planet about to be wiped out by a comet looking to be the cue ball to their planet being the eight-ball into the corner pocket to fighting off American bankers so evil and voracious that they have scared the shit out of the devil.

My concerns are sub-atomic stuff in the greater scope of existence but they none the less I found a few this past weekend testing the limits of my warm and fuzzy feelings for humanity.

Proving that nothing occurs in a vacuum and explaining why Joe “You Lie” Wilson is the congressman for this area Dragonwife accidentally let it slip Saturday that the slimy low-life neighbor living across the street called the sheriff on us about a year ago. The problem was that we had bought a new car outright and had donated the old and tired Corolla to charity. I had transferred the tag to the new car leaving the old car sitting in the yard waiting for the people to come take it away. This find example of the area, instead of manning up and coming to talk to me about it, called the sheriff forcing them to come to the house and ask about the car and what we were going to do about it.

Dragonwife was home at the time and very calmly and professionally explained the situation. Now the deputy sheriff didn’t care she was already pissed because our fine neighbor cussed out whomever he talked with on the phone promising to use his friendly relations with the high and mighty of the county to ruin her day if a deputy did not come out and force us to do something with the old car. Once the deputy had her information, she drove away and the old Corolla sat in the yard for at least a few more days until the tow truck working for the charity came and took the car away.

Wisely, Dragonwife kept this information from me. See me and that sorry fucker had words about three years ago that came very close to blows and him threatening me with all sorts of wrath from his mighty friends.

Upon learning about this stuff Saturday, I was torn two ways. One I was pissed as if it had occurred just then. Two, I was smart enough, for a change, not to go ambush the bastard over something that had happened a year ago. Especially since another neighbor I was friends with came by my house a few months after that asking me strange questions I thought at the time whether or not I was still pissed at the guy. It was easy to figure out my friend was probing for information but I thought it was over the original incident.

That day became even more warm and fuzzy when I learned that the credit card that we had just paid off a month ago had well over a thousand dollars back on it. After cleaning up the iced tea that I had coughed all over my son and a few of his friends watching them play Mass Effect 2. My young Sith Lords helped me to sit down because I was dizzy over the knowledge that the almost eleven hundred dollars earning interest for the big corporate fat cats so they could have an even bigger bonus next year bought replacement ceiling fans for the perfectly functioning ones still attached to the ceiling. Other home improvement items were also bought and I was assured we saved a bunch of money on them as well. After that, the room began spinning and I blacked out.

So I was actually happy Sunday night returning to work. I was comforted by the general mayhem and even hearing a guy being wheeled into the Emergency Room on a stretcher with a six-inch butcher knife sticking from his skull claiming that all he did was sleep with his mother-in-law reassured me everything was going to be okay.

But after returning home this morning it was then I that I knew God still had me in his thoughts. I went straight to the shower stripping down to the birthday suit wanting to get cleaned up and then catch a little of the comedy we call human civilization on one of the news channels. I had already jumped into the shower when I realized all my manly man soap had been used. The other options sitting on the small shelf in the shower stall would leave me smelling all rose peddle soft and lavender sweet and I just wasn’t in the mood.

Knowing my son, Darth Spoilboy, being in the early stages of hormone-induced girl chasing had a huge collection of assorted manly man soaps and shampoos I turned off the water and still buck naked jumped out of the shower to walk across the house to the bathroom he uses. In doing so, I had to pass the foyer in clear view of the front door, which has two small windows mounted on either side.
Passing by the front door, I noticed movement coming from one of the small windows next it. Frozen in shock were two missionary types, they could have been Jehovah Witnesses or Mormons. Both were skinny white dudes wearing 1950’s short sleeve shirts and razor thin black ties. Adding to the effect was the official NASA pocket protector each had inserted in their shirt pockets. The words, “Jesus Saves” blared out in gold lettering on the pocket protector.

From the look on their faces I figure they had been about to knock on the door and try to share with me assurance that I would see paradise if I joined their faith. The circumstances just struck me so damn funny God had to have arranged it. A second or two either way and I would have missed them or heard them knock and went straight into super ninja mode with me hiding until they left my doorstep.

For a split second, the theme song from “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” played in my head with Clint squaring off against armed bad guys in a dusty old west town. So I grabbed my package like the weapon it is and turned into the foyer to go open the door. I don’t know why but I must have spooked the dudes because they were on the other side of the neighborhood and still running when I saw then again after opening the door.

The cool thing is that I figure I won’t be bothered by those guys or their buddies anytime soon. Its these small moments in life that bring order and cosmic balance to my mind.


MRMacrum said...

What a great post. You captured the insanity that reins down into ordinary lives perfectly. But are you sure it is a weapon and not just an ornament?

White shirts and ties? Definitely Latter Day Saints doing their missionary thing before being anointed as full brothers under the sacred dead eyes of Joe Smith who obviously loves plastic pocket protecters. They all seem to use them.

sunshine said...

Oh that's good! Hahaha! :P
Next time I see the Jehovah's Witnesses pulling in, I guess I know how to get rid of them! :P

Yours sound like Mormon's. My nephew Josh just came back off of his Mormon mission a couple of months ago.
He was in New Orleans for 2 years.


Holte Ender said...

Never a dull moment and I bet the Mormons are telling their elders about some three legged monster who chased them down the street. Some tales get better by the telling.

Beach Bum said...

MRMacrum: Actually for me the guy with the six-inch butcher knife in his head took the cake. I was in an Emergency department exam room doing something very complex and technical, changing out a bulb, when they wheeled the guy in. I thought I was hallucinating seeing about three-inches of the knife buried inside his skull. He seemed honestly stunned that his wife/girlfriend would do such a thing for sleeping with her mother.

Weapon or ornament? Depends on what person you talk with.

Sunshine: WHOA! Okay, I guess I'll buy a white button up shirt with short sleeves, black tie, and pocket protect and drop by your house.

Holte: If it is the Mormons I guess my membership to in the Marie Osmond fan club will be canceled. On a serious note it was very sad about her son today.

Oso said...

You da man! They definitely know you weren't LDS or you'd have been wearing the magic underwear.

David Barber said...

You rant-write superbly, Beach. I used to hide from the JW's just because I couldn't say no. In the end they used to come to the door and ask for me by name and my wife would 'push them along'. A 6ft 3inch ex-fireman who couldn't say no to a couple of bible bashing women (They always seemed to send the women on the rounds near where we used to live). It's a good job I've got a strong willed 5ft 4inch wife or I may have ended up one of the flock. :-)
Regards my friend.

Joan Perry; Sidewalk Curator said...

Is that how you get rid of Mormons?! :))

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Beach Bum said...

Oso: Yeah, my Spiderman underwear was in the washer.

David: I'm 6 foot, 5 inch and I normally hide from those people.

Joan: I think I might actually patent the procedure.

Vijay: I will add you my friend.

TomCat said...

Beach, another read well worth the effort.

When missionary dudes come to my door, I pretend to be gay and hot for them. See Ezekiel run. Run, run, run. :-)

On your theme song, that's the ring tone on my cell phone.

Will "take no prisoners" Hart said...

Those guys look like the good guy frat boys from "Animal House". And, no, absolutely no match for the steely-eyed double b/his package. All you needed was Eli Wallach as the "Ugly".

Randal Graves said...

Those missionaries are fools. If they had done their research, they would have sent over some scantily-clad babes. Betcha you would have joined up in a second.

Jackass neighbors. 'tis a shame we can't stuff their skull full of buckshot.

Beach Bum said...

Tomcat: I miss old movies like those.

Will: I have expected them to return with backup to once again try and save my soul. Which is silly cause I sold the damn thing on eBay.

Randal: Ah my friend, am I that transparent? I thought about calling Sam and Dean Winchester on the locals around me but some things are even impossible for them.

Middle Ditch said...

Never a dull moment in your house. Two bathrooms???? My!

Middle Ditch said...

Oh BTW, I'm tempted to try this but somehow I don't think it's going to work for me. OH wait!! A 58 year old naked woman? Yeah that will work alright!

Four Dinners said...

A Four Dinners tip old bean.

The Jehovah mob used to knock on my door every Sunday morning.

In the winter I was already out playing soccer.

In the summer I was having a lie in. They pissed me off.

I was in the shower when they knocked.

I answered the door stark naked, dripping wet and with a a large antique (French Epee) bayonet in my hand and said "YES? CAN I HELP YOU?"

They have never returned.

Trust me I'm from Oldham...;-)

TRUTH 101 said...

The next time a pair of J.W.s knock on my door I shall vicariously live through Beach Bum and wave my dick at them menacingly.

You have now joined my cadre of heroes Beach Bum.

AdB said...


Hilarious in the extreme Beach. You are a wonderful story teller! I'm a fan...

Would you believe, the Mormon missionary thinggy happened to me a couple of days ago in the morning almost in the same circumstances??? No kidding.

Was taking my bath (Yep, with bubbles and what have you too! Not because I'm one of those fortunate folks who have the luxury of taking baths in the middle of the morning but because I was down with a terrible temp and thought a bath would do me good.)

Anyway, dog barked and barked -- I knew someone was at the door; occurred to me it might be about the delivery of something I'd ordered so decided to get out of bath at all cost. Got up quickly, felt wobbly and dizzy but managed to get out of bath; realised had left the blasted robe downstairs so grabbed a a huge but delightfully warm towel and wrapped it around me; walked down the stairs dripping and feeling faint; all the while dog barked barked and barked while I screeched "OK, OK!" just saw the delivery person would know someone was at home.

Opened the door slightly -- poked my head out, and what do you know two clean cut tie-wearing boys (good old fashion shoes too), blond and blue eyed all smiles greeted me in heavily American-accented French and asked if they could talk about the word of God with me, or similar gibberish, etc. (To be perfectly honest, for a hundredth of a second the sight conjured images of what NAZI Hitler youth might have looked like!)

Not the package I was waiting for -- but feeling slightly amused by then (also starting to feel really really frightfully chilly), opened the door a bit more to show that I was only skimpily "toweled," I said in English, of course, not at all against discussing God with them but it would have to be done in the bathroom while I finish my bath.

Poor kids didn't know what to say! (Must say, kids seemed quite embarassed or rather flabbergasted to note that under the huge towel, I was in fact in my birthday suit). They finally murmured something about calling in again but at a more propitious time. :-)

Colonel Colonel said...

Beach, Great way to get rid of Mormons! Next time they catch you fully-dressed, though, why not suggest that while you're all set in the Soul dept, you have some neighbors across the street who are very much interested in Mormonic Salvation...

lime said...

now THAT'S just fantastic. oh to have been a fly on the wall....but you describe it all so well.

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