28 March 2014
733
R. Linda:
Forget daydreams, let's go directly to crazy land. Just when I thought Weasil would be back in Scotland voting to stay a part of the United Kingdom . . . or not, I find him AND his wife at me doorstep. Their kiddos were with her father and stepmother someplace and these two had nothing better to do, but fly into New Hampshire to visit me on my last day off! I tell ya I can't get any peace or sleep.
So here it is, in all its weirdness the conversation I was forced to be privy to, in me own kitchen.
"You know what honey, I think I know what to do with the urn that is on the mantle back home."
The person speaking was Mrs. W, and she was directing this pregnant thought to her husband who was toasting Toaster Strudels (the entire supply my wife bought me kiddos) and squeezing the gooey icing over the top of the ones he had thus far toasted to Weasil perfection.
"And wot wood datty be?" He asked in mid-squeeze.
"I think we should book a trip to Disney World." She said all lit up like a light bulb.
I was wondering what an urn full of ashes on a mantle had to do with Disney World, but then I wasn't exactly sitting with the sharpest tacks in the box. I didn't have to wonder long.
"Well, you know my late mum liked faeries and I thought she'd like to have her ashes spread in Tinkerbell land, you know by the castle in Disney World."
I bit my tongue so hard it hurt and shook me head NO, but I had nothing to do with this . . . this . . . conversation (if you can call it that).
"Welly . . ." was all Weasil uttered as if he was capable of deep thought.
It was much to my amazement that he'd even give it credence. But we are talking Weasil here, not Albert Einstein.
"AND you know how much she liked her bling," this said with a wistful sigh, "I could get some glitter and mix it in with her ashes so when I spread them they look like faery dust!" She was really lit up now.
I sat there aghast but her husband thought it was a great idea. But then he would!
"I could mix them together . . . but then there are those bigger pieces . . . " she drifted off in thought, a puzzled look on her face.
"Bigger pieces?" I said to meself only then realising what she meant and then was doubly aghast.
"We could git a blender," Weasil suggested, an icing packet raised in the air as if the thought was this side of brilliant.
"OH no, we could get a Vitamix!" Brightly suggested by his wife.
"Yeah, datty would blend da glitter an ashes to a fine dust," Weasil said serving the first box of Toaster Strudel.
I cleared my throat and ventured in as if I would be accepted as the voice of reason. Stupid me.
"I don't think the Disney people will allow that."
They both looked at me like I was the nutter.
"They won't know, we'll just throw the ashes out and everyone will think faery dust," the brilliant Mrs. Weasil threw out.
"Nah, da best way ta do datty dere iz ta take da gondola and throw it from there and da peeps will think, wow faery dust!"
"Oh no, no, no," I said shaking me head violently, imagining meself walking below a gondola being dosed with ashes from a dead body. "You can't rain down someone's ashes on tourists, I mean most of them will be kiddos below."
"Dey will luv it," Weasil said, "a bit o' magic hey dere Gabbie?"
"How are you going to get an urn into Disney World in the first place?" I challenged.
"I will sew a gold lame' bag and bedazzle it with rhinestones that say 'FAERY DUST' on it." The Mrs. said, ever full of inventive ideas.
"Get a patent on that while you're at it," I mumbled to meself.
"Wait, better den datty dere," Weasil said having an obvious brainstorm, "You can sew little individual baggies of da dustie and we'll git us a vendor's license and sell it as faery dustie."
As SHE howled in ecstasy at that idea, I at the same time howled in protest and was overcome by the thought to which I started eating strudel like it was going out of style.
"So what happens when you run out of ashes . . . oh excuse me faery dust?" I threw out my mouth full.
"Gabbie, it's Florida," Weasil said condescendingly to me.
I stopped chewing in wonder, so what it's Florida I mused to meself still not figuring it out. So I blurted out me consternation. "What you mean it's Florida? What does that have to do with anything?" I asked getting a bit warm and taking another Toaster Strudel.
"Old peeps. We stake out an old peeps home and Bob's your uncle, every week we will have another urn."
I sat there in unspeakable horror looking at the Weasil and his wife, the strudel falling from me gaping mouth.
"YOU CANNOT DO THAT!" I shouted when I finally got my vocal cords to kick in from the shock.
"Dat was a wastie of perfectly goodly studellie thingies," Weasil said blotting me lips with a napkin.
I threw off his hand and got up and asked them how'd they feel if someone sprinkled ashes with glitter on THEM.
"Wood we knowz it weren't faery dustie? Nah ha, we wood notty." Weasil said smugly.
"You are an idiot of the first degree. I cannot believe either of you would be so callous, so disrespectful . . . " I started to rant.
"No not disrespectful, if anything," Mrs. Weasil chuckled at me like I was a dope, "we would be respecting my mother's last wish."
"Which was?" I had hands on hips now, like I meant business. "YOU are not telling me in her last will and testament she said, mix my ashes with glitter and oh yeah use a Vitamix-er to do it, and then throw me in gold baggies and sell me at Disney World so my ashes can be spread in the land of make believe."
SILENCE. NOT A WORD. They sat there looking at each other their eyes wide in disbelief I'd know that.
"NO! You are not telling me she ACTUALLY requested THAT?" I demanded. "SHE DID DIDN'T SHE? OH MY GOD!" I sat heavily back down as they started to chew again. Interruption over, as they shrugged their shoulders in unison. "I AM APPALLED," I said crossing me arms over me chest in dissatisfaction.
That was it. I could say no more. I had said my piece, but it wasn't accepted as offering sound advice, I was an unfeeling wretch and that was that.
They finished off the rest of the Toaster Strudel. Yes, they did, they had worked up an appetite and were hot to be off to Florida, urn and all. I sat there with me long legs spread out under the table, me big self slouched back in me chair, arms akimbo with a sour expression on me face. I don't know how long I sat there but it wasn't too long before I realised, my very own kiddos had a trip to Disney World coming up with the in-laws. That thought got me out of my chair and leaning on the table hyperventilating at the thought of drifting ashes and glitter and them noticing the 'faery dust' and dancing around in it. I was beside meself I was!
I kept telling meself THAT will never happen, but we all know the Weasilmans, where there is a will there be a way and you know they'd do it! I estimated by the time they returned to Scotland and got the Vitmixer AND the urn, it would be around spring break here. That thought spurred me to action it did. I made phone calls trying to locate the Weasils, but I couldn't! I called my in-laws and warned them that IF this fine dust with glitter was to fall from gondolas in Disney World it wasn't what they would think it was and to get out of there and not let my kiddos get full of it because they'd be literally wearing Amanda's mother.
And what did I get for all this warning? I got this from the Dragon-in-law, "Really Gabriel, I can't think where you get this stuff from, but you are making me seriously consider committing you to an institution for the weak of mind."
YUP, that's what she said, if anyone should be committed it should be the Weasils, but no, it's ME who is the crazy person. Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2014 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Forget daydreams, let's go directly to crazy land. Just when I thought Weasil would be back in Scotland voting to stay a part of the United Kingdom . . . or not, I find him AND his wife at me doorstep. Their kiddos were with her father and stepmother someplace and these two had nothing better to do, but fly into New Hampshire to visit me on my last day off! I tell ya I can't get any peace or sleep.
So here it is, in all its weirdness the conversation I was forced to be privy to, in me own kitchen.
"You know what honey, I think I know what to do with the urn that is on the mantle back home."
The person speaking was Mrs. W, and she was directing this pregnant thought to her husband who was toasting Toaster Strudels (the entire supply my wife bought me kiddos) and squeezing the gooey icing over the top of the ones he had thus far toasted to Weasil perfection.
"And wot wood datty be?" He asked in mid-squeeze.
"I think we should book a trip to Disney World." She said all lit up like a light bulb.
I was wondering what an urn full of ashes on a mantle had to do with Disney World, but then I wasn't exactly sitting with the sharpest tacks in the box. I didn't have to wonder long.
"Well, you know my late mum liked faeries and I thought she'd like to have her ashes spread in Tinkerbell land, you know by the castle in Disney World."
I bit my tongue so hard it hurt and shook me head NO, but I had nothing to do with this . . . this . . . conversation (if you can call it that).
"Welly . . ." was all Weasil uttered as if he was capable of deep thought.
It was much to my amazement that he'd even give it credence. But we are talking Weasil here, not Albert Einstein.
"AND you know how much she liked her bling," this said with a wistful sigh, "I could get some glitter and mix it in with her ashes so when I spread them they look like faery dust!" She was really lit up now.
I sat there aghast but her husband thought it was a great idea. But then he would!
"I could mix them together . . . but then there are those bigger pieces . . . " she drifted off in thought, a puzzled look on her face.
"Bigger pieces?" I said to meself only then realising what she meant and then was doubly aghast.
"We could git a blender," Weasil suggested, an icing packet raised in the air as if the thought was this side of brilliant.
"OH no, we could get a Vitamix!" Brightly suggested by his wife.
"Yeah, datty would blend da glitter an ashes to a fine dust," Weasil said serving the first box of Toaster Strudel.
I cleared my throat and ventured in as if I would be accepted as the voice of reason. Stupid me.
"I don't think the Disney people will allow that."
They both looked at me like I was the nutter.
"They won't know, we'll just throw the ashes out and everyone will think faery dust," the brilliant Mrs. Weasil threw out.
"Nah, da best way ta do datty dere iz ta take da gondola and throw it from there and da peeps will think, wow faery dust!"
"Oh no, no, no," I said shaking me head violently, imagining meself walking below a gondola being dosed with ashes from a dead body. "You can't rain down someone's ashes on tourists, I mean most of them will be kiddos below."
"Dey will luv it," Weasil said, "a bit o' magic hey dere Gabbie?"
"How are you going to get an urn into Disney World in the first place?" I challenged.
"I will sew a gold lame' bag and bedazzle it with rhinestones that say 'FAERY DUST' on it." The Mrs. said, ever full of inventive ideas.
"Get a patent on that while you're at it," I mumbled to meself.
"Wait, better den datty dere," Weasil said having an obvious brainstorm, "You can sew little individual baggies of da dustie and we'll git us a vendor's license and sell it as faery dustie."
As SHE howled in ecstasy at that idea, I at the same time howled in protest and was overcome by the thought to which I started eating strudel like it was going out of style.
"So what happens when you run out of ashes . . . oh excuse me faery dust?" I threw out my mouth full.
"Gabbie, it's Florida," Weasil said condescendingly to me.
I stopped chewing in wonder, so what it's Florida I mused to meself still not figuring it out. So I blurted out me consternation. "What you mean it's Florida? What does that have to do with anything?" I asked getting a bit warm and taking another Toaster Strudel.
"Old peeps. We stake out an old peeps home and Bob's your uncle, every week we will have another urn."
I sat there in unspeakable horror looking at the Weasil and his wife, the strudel falling from me gaping mouth.
"YOU CANNOT DO THAT!" I shouted when I finally got my vocal cords to kick in from the shock.
"Dat was a wastie of perfectly goodly studellie thingies," Weasil said blotting me lips with a napkin.
I threw off his hand and got up and asked them how'd they feel if someone sprinkled ashes with glitter on THEM.
"Wood we knowz it weren't faery dustie? Nah ha, we wood notty." Weasil said smugly.
"You are an idiot of the first degree. I cannot believe either of you would be so callous, so disrespectful . . . " I started to rant.
"No not disrespectful, if anything," Mrs. Weasil chuckled at me like I was a dope, "we would be respecting my mother's last wish."
"Which was?" I had hands on hips now, like I meant business. "YOU are not telling me in her last will and testament she said, mix my ashes with glitter and oh yeah use a Vitamix-er to do it, and then throw me in gold baggies and sell me at Disney World so my ashes can be spread in the land of make believe."
SILENCE. NOT A WORD. They sat there looking at each other their eyes wide in disbelief I'd know that.
"NO! You are not telling me she ACTUALLY requested THAT?" I demanded. "SHE DID DIDN'T SHE? OH MY GOD!" I sat heavily back down as they started to chew again. Interruption over, as they shrugged their shoulders in unison. "I AM APPALLED," I said crossing me arms over me chest in dissatisfaction.
That was it. I could say no more. I had said my piece, but it wasn't accepted as offering sound advice, I was an unfeeling wretch and that was that.
They finished off the rest of the Toaster Strudel. Yes, they did, they had worked up an appetite and were hot to be off to Florida, urn and all. I sat there with me long legs spread out under the table, me big self slouched back in me chair, arms akimbo with a sour expression on me face. I don't know how long I sat there but it wasn't too long before I realised, my very own kiddos had a trip to Disney World coming up with the in-laws. That thought got me out of my chair and leaning on the table hyperventilating at the thought of drifting ashes and glitter and them noticing the 'faery dust' and dancing around in it. I was beside meself I was!
I kept telling meself THAT will never happen, but we all know the Weasilmans, where there is a will there be a way and you know they'd do it! I estimated by the time they returned to Scotland and got the Vitmixer AND the urn, it would be around spring break here. That thought spurred me to action it did. I made phone calls trying to locate the Weasils, but I couldn't! I called my in-laws and warned them that IF this fine dust with glitter was to fall from gondolas in Disney World it wasn't what they would think it was and to get out of there and not let my kiddos get full of it because they'd be literally wearing Amanda's mother.
And what did I get for all this warning? I got this from the Dragon-in-law, "Really Gabriel, I can't think where you get this stuff from, but you are making me seriously consider committing you to an institution for the weak of mind."
YUP, that's what she said, if anyone should be committed it should be the Weasils, but no, it's ME who is the crazy person. Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2014 All rights reserved
9 comments:
LOL what a "wicked" imagination!
No, no, no, that is wrong is so many ways! I hope Weasil and Amanda aren't serious. As to you Gabe, for writing it you made it sound funny but what a thought! LOL
Diabolical Cappy, diabolical! Not even I'd think of that. LOL
wowza! you have me amused though i shouldn't be LMAO
LMAO
YUCK! Talk about vomit central! Just the thought of someone's ashes getting sprinkled on me, makes me ill. and I have news, ashes, even mixed with glitter would leave dust marks. it DOESN'T sprinkle. I hope they were joking.
Genius. ROFLMAO
I be sure they were. Well . . . kinda. ;-)
just remembered, did I mention CHUNKS?LOL
Chunks? Did I mention Vitamix?
Post a Comment