Out of Sorts

Things are good in Alger.  Get your ass back here.  I need to borrow your lawnmower and I don’t want to be nice about it.  I am tired of being nice to people who pretend to be your friend as long as you are nice.

I need to have my friend back here so I can borrow his damn lawn mower without being nice.  And if I were to offer him a few beers he might bring it over as well.  God, the world is full of crazy people and they are crazier than when you left.  Speaking of crazy, the Park and Shop is painted bright yellow and you can hardly stand in there because the beer is stacked to the damn ceiling everywhere.  And down at Big Al’s Big Al wants to move to Omak.  He bought 5 acres out on Tunk mountain where my Omak pals used to go and drink and shoot pheasants and get our parents cars stuck in the rutted roads late at night and have to walk to some ranchers house at midnight and ask for help and make up some name so he wouldn’t tell your parents and then you wash the car at Steve McCracken’s house at 2 am and drive home and pretend like nothing had happened and shit you forgot to vacuum the inside of the car that was filled with dirt and sage brush and the seats had so much dust that the interior of the car would cloud up if you smacked the seat but you were too drunk to remember and your father gets you out of bed at 7:30 am and wants to know what the hell happened to his brand new Chevrolet Caprice with the big 389 engine and the really great 8 track stereo which you left your Beatle tape in the unit turned up very very loud and when your dad started the car up “back in the ussr” blared out on Sunday morning and the neighbors called your mom to ask what the hell was going on and you father stood over you while you were still in bed with your head in a blur and he wants to know what the hell is going on and then your little brother starts yelling at you from across the hallway and what the hell is going on with the car… don’t ruin things anymore for me.  

But you have already ruined things many times before this because that is how things work for you.  No problems, just issues trying to spoil your groove.  So my dad gets tired of wanting to know what the hell happened and blows down the stairs and drives off in the Caprice and probably gets someone at the service station to vacuum out the car and then the attendant probably asked him what the hell happened to his car and your dad looks at the attendant sideways, pulls on his pipe and says I don’t know what the hell happened but with that kid anything can happen that damn kid of mine seems to find himself in these spots a lot.  Hell is there something wrong with that kid?  I don’t know Charlie there could be something the hell wrong with him but the kid probably doesn’t understand what the hell is happening. 

 
So I’m at home and stagger into the shower and walk around in a daze until my mother yells at me to get out of the kitchen and get my head out of the refrigerator.  I choose to be charming.  I talk to my mother a few minutes and what do you know I have the keys to her car and I’m driving off to see that other girl I wanted to be with last night and I’m feeling great.  My father comes home to straighten me out and sees that the mustang is gone and my mother is home.  What the hell is happening here my dad wants to know, where the hell is that kid?  I can hear my mother saying it’s just a stage Charlie; he’ll grow out of this.  When the hell does that happen my dad blurts out.  When the hell does that happen I began to wonder, not too soon I hope.  I’m having a great time acting like this.