Ok fan club, have I got a bunch of turbo cool stories for you. First off, I have a name! For real, some people think this is silly but when your possessions in this life consist of diapers stacked ever so high and wide, binkies by the pocketful and really life sized stuffed animals then you learn to appreciate the valuable intangible assets that define you as a person and contributor of society.
Thus far my biggest recent contributions to society have cute little pictures of the Cookie Monster on the front and Huggies written every where else. I’m a little guy but don’t kid yourself, those were some pretty big contributions.
This last Sunday, February 18th 2007, my amazingly handsome and really tall Dad took me in his arms and surrounded me with a whole bunch of other really tall and similarly handsome, though admittedly not quite so handsome, men.
I was pretty sure they were from the West Side Little Rock Mafia Gestapo Family because they were all wearing finely appointed black pin striped suits with certainly no less than Italian ties and Gucci loafers. I saw a bulge in the goofy looking ones coat so I had to presume they were packin’.
Dad and I had covered this exact situation in my karate classes the week before. I knew that in order to keep the element of surprise I had to get Dads attention and then seize the initiative. I may look like a pint sized can of chubby chub peanut butter but I’m already up to a cerise colored belt.
So just as I was arching my back and raring to let go my fiercest battle cry, Daddy totally caught me off guard - the joker started praying. I didn’t understand he and I always fight in unison; we are always on the same page. He knew I was about to open a can and you know you can’t paintdafence on homeboys face when some one else is praying.
It just doesn’t work right. ... then it hit me, my Dad is a genius. A tall fabulously handsome genius! He was going to lull them into a prayer, get them to bow their heads and close their eyes and then when he said, “Amen” we’d come out back to back, fists of blazing saddle fury swingin' in the middle of this circle and whoop some serious thug behind. I like the way this guy thinks.
I admit it, I peaked through most of the prayer. Usually I don’t get in too much trouble though because I still can’t focus on much out there that is more than 15 inches in front of my face. One think I did see, besides the scowls on all these circled hooligans gruff faces was my Daddy looking back at me. I figured he was trying to key me in on his astute plan of counter attack. But what I saw surprised me.
The gigantic, muscular, slightly taller than his brother and ever so handsome pillar of strength I had known my whole life wasn’t looking around assessing the dangerous situation but rather he was staring into my eyes. Geez, I haven’t even been to Sunbeams yet and even I know you’re not supposed to have your eyes open during the prayer.
Maybe this wasn’t your typical prayer.
So I started listening to what he had to say and quite to my surprise it was all about me. We looked at each other for probably 2 minutes and in a way that I can’t seem to describe. I could tell that my Daddy saw something in me even he didn't know was there. The poor little guy could hardly put two words together. I wished I could have seen what he saw. He tells me it was amazing and that if I knew what he knew about my little soul, my little heart, my great past and the promise I am that it would help me more than anything else in this life. I hope someday I can talk to him about it. When he's not all sappy.
Luckily he didn’t cry. I didn’t think I could take all of them by myself. When the blessing was over I gave a quick one two in the air and was ready to throw a vicious round house kick when all the thugs let go, Daddy picked me up in the air and put me on display to the entire congregation. Somehow he had made peace and we went around the circle shaking hands and smiling. It was a fake smile, I had gas, and every one of them left grimacing after the grip I left on their grippers.
While this is probably not the last of Uncle Aaron “the fork” Bradbury, Brock “the boy next door” Burkhardt, Elder “DoeKnocka” Phillips, Bishop Tony “pizza pie” Missledine or the Goodfella himself Grandpa Joe, I can safely say they knew I was bidness all the way. Check six sucka.
After all that saber-rattling I was tired so I took a cat like reflexes nap. I still have problems breathing so when I want to camouflage myself when I sleep I snuggle in under the hood of an idling Peterbuilt at the local Pilot Truck stop. I’m pretty sure I add 72 horsepower just by climbing under the hood. That’s how tough my Dad says I am anyway.
Thus far my biggest recent contributions to society have cute little pictures of the Cookie Monster on the front and Huggies written every where else. I’m a little guy but don’t kid yourself, those were some pretty big contributions.
This last Sunday, February 18th 2007, my amazingly handsome and really tall Dad took me in his arms and surrounded me with a whole bunch of other really tall and similarly handsome, though admittedly not quite so handsome, men.
I was pretty sure they were from the West Side Little Rock Mafia Gestapo Family because they were all wearing finely appointed black pin striped suits with certainly no less than Italian ties and Gucci loafers. I saw a bulge in the goofy looking ones coat so I had to presume they were packin’.Dad and I had covered this exact situation in my karate classes the week before. I knew that in order to keep the element of surprise I had to get Dads attention and then seize the initiative. I may look like a pint sized can of chubby chub peanut butter but I’m already up to a cerise colored belt.
So just as I was arching my back and raring to let go my fiercest battle cry, Daddy totally caught me off guard - the joker started praying. I didn’t understand he and I always fight in unison; we are always on the same page. He knew I was about to open a can and you know you can’t paintdafence on homeboys face when some one else is praying.
It just doesn’t work right. ... then it hit me, my Dad is a genius. A tall fabulously handsome genius! He was going to lull them into a prayer, get them to bow their heads and close their eyes and then when he said, “Amen” we’d come out back to back, fists of blazing saddle fury swingin' in the middle of this circle and whoop some serious thug behind. I like the way this guy thinks.
I admit it, I peaked through most of the prayer. Usually I don’t get in too much trouble though because I still can’t focus on much out there that is more than 15 inches in front of my face. One think I did see, besides the scowls on all these circled hooligans gruff faces was my Daddy looking back at me. I figured he was trying to key me in on his astute plan of counter attack. But what I saw surprised me.
The gigantic, muscular, slightly taller than his brother and ever so handsome pillar of strength I had known my whole life wasn’t looking around assessing the dangerous situation but rather he was staring into my eyes. Geez, I haven’t even been to Sunbeams yet and even I know you’re not supposed to have your eyes open during the prayer.
Maybe this wasn’t your typical prayer.
So I started listening to what he had to say and quite to my surprise it was all about me. We looked at each other for probably 2 minutes and in a way that I can’t seem to describe. I could tell that my Daddy saw something in me even he didn't know was there. The poor little guy could hardly put two words together. I wished I could have seen what he saw. He tells me it was amazing and that if I knew what he knew about my little soul, my little heart, my great past and the promise I am that it would help me more than anything else in this life. I hope someday I can talk to him about it. When he's not all sappy.
Luckily he didn’t cry. I didn’t think I could take all of them by myself. When the blessing was over I gave a quick one two in the air and was ready to throw a vicious round house kick when all the thugs let go, Daddy picked me up in the air and put me on display to the entire congregation. Somehow he had made peace and we went around the circle shaking hands and smiling. It was a fake smile, I had gas, and every one of them left grimacing after the grip I left on their grippers.
While this is probably not the last of Uncle Aaron “the fork” Bradbury, Brock “the boy next door” Burkhardt, Elder “DoeKnocka” Phillips, Bishop Tony “pizza pie” Missledine or the Goodfella himself Grandpa Joe, I can safely say they knew I was bidness all the way. Check six sucka.
After all that saber-rattling I was tired so I took a cat like reflexes nap. I still have problems breathing so when I want to camouflage myself when I sleep I snuggle in under the hood of an idling Peterbuilt at the local Pilot Truck stop. I’m pretty sure I add 72 horsepower just by climbing under the hood. That’s how tough my Dad says I am anyway.
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