crazy funny story...
so tw pm'd me after fuzzy arrived home. I guess enough time has passed that Tim would forgive me for sharing this...
I don't remember what I sent him, it might have been some Japanese whiskey he couldn't find in K.C. that his father liked, that sounds right. Don't remember anything else, but fuzzy rode shotgun.
For some reason, tw decided to open the box when his parents were there (his dear mother has since passed away, hence the time lag in telling this story) and he pulled out the zip lock/hazmat bag that contained the red headed, travel weary fuzzy. I guess some 'splainin' ensued...
I will never stop chuckling over tw writing about having to listen to his sweet, innocent mother saying the words "butt plug" over and over.
frankj1 wrote:
Oh my Gawd! That is epic. I have a similar one that I had almost forgot.
When I was in my Special Boat Unit back in the mid 80's, I carried a huge rubber johnson in a custom made camouflaged LC-1 (web gear) pouch when I was on the aggressors (bad guys). It had started out as a Halloween costume when I went to a unit party as a flasher. UDT shorts on a tanned person are invisible. :)
So since I had the thing I had a pouch made and used it on ops. If I could get close enough to the boat to toss it in, that was a kill. It was a simulated grenade, thus the boat was "F@#(ed). I loved the symbology. 😁
Flash forward 10 years. I get married, my mother in law is a very staid old school Italian lady that simply loved giving me grief. So at Christmas that year, I put "Stiffy" in an old Kahlua gift can, nuts down, wrapped it up, labeled it "For Dorothy, From Santa" and slipped it unobserved under the Christmas tree.
Christmas morning, the entire collected families, and kids, are all around the tree opening gifts. We get to her, she's looking around trying to figure out who Santa is, unwraps it, looks in the can, confused for a moment, (the heads bobbing up and down) then clarity kicks in. She slams the lid shut, looks at me with daggers, starts to say something and all the kids start yelling, "What is it Grandma? What is it?"
I'm dying, nobody else knows, and she has to do a, "well just you kids never mind, it's private". And be nice until she can get me cornered later. I paid for that for years, but it was worth every damned second of it. :D
I loved that woman, she was finest kind, we had fun.
Edited by user
7 years ago |
Reason: senility
