Well, we only have a few days to:
A) Decide on our new year's rezz, or
B) Finish up on our last year's rezz.
C) Or both.
I have chosen to finish a serious resolution that I have been ignoring for eleven and 3/4 months. Gotta move fast. Today is the day to make serious strides. I am absotively posilutely going to put an end to all my obsessive behaviors. Yer Ma and I went to the Chuckarama. The place was jammed. We no sooner got into the front door than I spotted a big fat older guy with a fabulous pair of John Deere suspenders. I don't like suspenders. Don't trust 'em. One overstretch of the torso and where are the levis? On the floor. But these were JOHN DEERE suspenders. I asked yer Ma for a pair. She was laughing so hard that she didn't even answer. Who was she laughing at.? Me? Or the guy because the suspenders came straight over his shoulders, then took incredible detours around his enormous gut, straightening out again at the beltline where a belt darn well shoulda been.
She continued laughing as we filled our plates. Who in the h-e-double-toothpicks is she giggling about? She rounded a corner and there he was. Face to face. She almost dropped her plate. I told her that I bet any John Deere dealer would have them. Cheap, too. I found the biggest drumstick I had ever seen. Yum. String beans, cantalope, a ho-bunch of napkins and I was ready to dig in. I peeled some of the skin off the d'stick as I always do. The drumstick turned out to be greasy as they often do. I wrapped a napkin around it and wrenched the grease off as I often do. Disaster. The tissuie face of the napkin stuck to the drumstick. I thought it would peel right off. Oh, no. I picked and picked and picked. Yer Ma said that a small amount of napkin wouldn't hurt anything. Have you ever gotten napkin paper in your mouth? Gag! I picked and picked. She got up and refilled her plate.
She was certainly smiling when she returned. I assumed she was having an extended encounter with the 'spenders. I asked about it. She glanced at my d'stick and said no. She suggested that I merely set the drumstick aside. I said, no that would be wasteful and could even get us into trouble with the manager. ("You! Big Boy! You go now!") Well, large drumsticks are not all they are cracked up to be. I couldn't tell the meat from the gristle. I couldn't tell the bone from the fat. I couldn't tell the dark meat from the burned skin. I hate burned skin. It hadda come off. But how? It worked out well. As I got the last of the skin off, the last of the paper appeared to be gone.
I wondered aloud if the guy would be offended if I simply asked him where he got those marvelous green and yellow suspenders. Yer ma has a sort of a personality disorder. Her smiling holiday-season personna was momentarily gone. She said, "dont you go over there." STUPID DRUMSTICK! It was cold. It was hard. It had less meat than a normal small drumstick.
I had an epiphany. The John Deere dealers would have everything on sale. I could buy twenty or thirty pairs of suspenders! For next to nothing! Greenie greenie greenie! But how could I keep the secret for 363 days? Mandy struggled for 17 days (plus 2 days because the toys were on the mountain.) This would test my compulsion to tell all! I always finish at Chuckarama with chocolate pudding. Wouldn't ya know it? The pudding was almost all gone. What do I do? People were pushing from all directions. How do I get anyone's attention? No employees anywhere! I ran to our booth. "Ma, what do I do? The pudding is gone. Do you think maybe that drumstick could have come from a small turkey?"
She said, "I cannot put up with all these people another second. I'm heading for the car." As she was going through the door, I swear I saw a boat of pudding arriving at the dessert bar. I realized that this was a wonderful opportunity to overcome a compulsion. No pudding. I am strong. I am El Tigre. I caught up with yer Ma as she reached the car. "Now, about those suspenders........." I go now.