By Ike Adams
I don’t get out and about as much as I’d like to these days. The two strokes I suffered in October put a serious hitch in my giddyup.
But when I am able to go shopping, I’d like to just once between now and Christmas walk into a store that doesn’t have Little Drummer Boy blaring through the speakers.
I don’t want to overdo the Scrooge bit here, but if you hear or read news accounts of some old guy ripping off his clothes while running through the aisles at Wally-world screaming, “TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF,” that was probably yours truly because I’d heard one rumpa-pom-pom too many.
Whatever happened to “Gramma got run over by a reindeer”? Or “I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus”? Why can’t they pipe in some real Christmas music for a change? Last year it was that 12-days stuff over and over and over.
I was in the sporting goods section and a guy next to me said, “If you’ll go over to hardware and get a chain saw, I’ll grab a shotgun and shoot all them aggravating bob-whites when you saw the pear tree down.
“But I thought there was only one partridge in that tree,” I told him.
He replied, “Nope. Where there’s one, there’s a lot more. That’s what them calling birds are (bob-whites) and everybody knows that French hens and turtle doves are actually bob-whites.”
We had it all planned out.
As soon as he’d “harvested” the birds, we’d run over to lawn-and-garden, fire up a grill and pass out free samples of barbecued quail while telling folks they could buy the Bull’s Eye barby sauce that was stacked there right next to the cornflakes over on the far side of the store. And they could get some hiking boots in clothing that would make the last half of the trek over there a lot more comfortable. They’s have to come back to this department, however, because the last guy working register 73 finally quit last week.
“Wonder why they have the Bull’s Eye on the shelf next to the cereal,” I foolishly asked?
He said, “Heck, Son. Where you from anyhow? Don’t tell me you’re one of them fellers that don’t put barby sauce on his cheerios.”
I said, “Well it does make more sense than having the grated cheese over there beside the ice cream freezer.”
And he said, “ I bet you don’t sprinkle your butter pecan with Parmesan either, do you?”
He said, “If you’d just stop and think about it, there’s a good reason why they put ‘bout everything in this store where it’s handy to get at and easy to find. But I still don’t know why they don’t have the nuts over there in hardware where a man could pick up a hammer to crack em with.”
Anyway, from all us here on Charlie Brown Road, Merry Jingle Bells and may your rumpa keep on pompoming and your lords keep right on leaping in the coming year.
May you also remember to date your checks and correspondence 2014 before the end of the year.
I’m still stuck on 1982, cause that’s the year Loretta latched onto me.