Baseball is here and with it comes dogs and beer. There is something about a beer with a dog, in bun, slathered with mustard and a scoop of kraut on top. Or chili with mustard and onion. Or mayonnaise, just mayo, and dog on a steam bun. Then there is cheese with a variety of toppings it just goes on. And I get the really good dogs, no nitrates or preservatives, uncured with natural seasoning and wood smoke. They are so good.
So you have your game, a nice ice-cold beer and, on a plate, some slaw and a dog. The game begins and the batter is flicking his bat like a nervous scorpion, waiting for the right pitch. It may come now or later but the waiting game begins and there you are chewing on a dog with cold beer to wash it down.
Then Mom comes in, "Can I use your computer?"
"Sure," I say, "Do you need help turning it on?"
"No, I can do it."
Only she can't do it, she can't do shit because she is such a ditz. So right when there is a base hit, two out and a batter up, she of course asks for help. No help needed between innings, shit no, but come something that might change the score, the bitch is in need.
"Here, push this button in the back, and wait for the screen to come up."
"I'm going to make the reservation for House of Blues."
"Okay."
Mexican Monkey's wife is performing Wednesday night at the House of Blues. We're suppose to have dinner there and then see her concert.
"I sent you an e-mail confirming the reservations,"
"Okay."
The batter is out and now there is a break, I'm going to the kitchen for a dog and ask Mom if she wants one.
"No, I'm not hungry, and I can't eat bread."
"You can have a dog without a bun. There all natural, no preservatives, and they are really good."
"No. I'm not hungry."
I fix the dog, fill the glass with more beer and go back to see the next inning. Right when they have a man on base and no outs, Mom asks, "Do you have coffee?"
"What's left is in the thermos, help yourself."
"Can I use this cup?" She stands at the doorway with a coffee cup.
"Sure, I don't care." What does the bitch think a coffee cup is for?
"Do you have Splenda?"
"Yes, it's in the cupboard by the stove."
Now there are two men on base and one out, the batter has two strikes and three balls.
"I can't find it."
"I'll be there in a sec."
"Don't get up. What cupboard did you say?"
"The one by the stove."
"There are just pots and pans,"
"Look at the top one."
"Oh, above the counter."
"Yes, that one."
"I don't see it."
"I'll be there in a sec,"
"Never mind, I don't want coffee anyway."
"Fine. "
"Do you have Crystal Light?"
"In the fridge, at the bottom in the pitcher."
The batter hits the ball and I hear a crash in the kitchen.
"I'll clean it up. Do you have a mop?"
Okay, now I'm going to have to go to the garage for the bloody mop. I can't fucking wait to get the damn thing or Mom will have half the kitchen torn up. I get the mop, help with clean up and get her a fucking drink.
When I'm back, the dog is cold, the beer warm and there was a home run I missed.
Baseball season has arrived. Mom made the reservations for the wrong day at House of Blues and everything is back to normal here in Queer Gaza.
No comments:
Post a Comment