Victor from the Crypto department here, writing to inform you that your father has once again been spotted in my backyard. I was out doing my usual thing at 3 a.m. last Friday (using my neighbor's cat as live bait) when I spotted some movement in the pines. Now, my back 40 is normally a quiet place -- too quiet, if you ask me -- but on this particularly Friday night I was convinced that I was witnessing the tell-tale stealthy movements of a small humanoid, perhaps about to jump on the bait I had so craftily prepared (Tabby, pawing at can of Tongol tuna hanging from a low branch).
When I shone my high-powered beam in its direction, however, it turned out that it was your father. Again. And I don't know what the hell he was doing, but it's creeping my wife and kids out. I've considerately avoided printing any names, Steve from accounting, but I want this stopped.
Yours in Crypto,
Vic
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Listen. First of all I want to clarify that McClellan is NOT my father. Just because he married my moms doesn’t change the fact that my father was Arthur P. Hawksey – Private First Class in Louisiana’s National Guard. I might not have ever met him, but I’ll give him my due til my dying day – never mind that mom married some old-timer who still wears pocket squares and is increasingly smelling vaguely of urine.
Saying that, though, I’ve gotta defend McClellan. He is absolutely harmless. He hasn’t caught on to the fact that we have cable – 158 channels! – so he still takes to wandering at night to “clear the old cerebrellum” as he says. Anyway, Vic, I asked him how these “paramtambulations” as he calls them so often end up in your back yard. (I swear, the old fart thinks he’s smart, but can’t pronounce worth a shit.)
Anyway – only answer he’d give was “Maybelline.” I wasn’t sure what that was about, but have finally gotten to the bottom of it. Maybelline was the black lab who belonged to McClellan’s old bridge partner, Alfie. For some reason, mom told me that McClellan became partial to Maybelline. (And as I hear it, that dog was a piece of work. She was partial to a squat whenever the mood struck – on clothes, tile, and once, to Alfie’s horror, a 19th century daguerrotype of his great-great grandfather that had fallen off the nightstand.)
As moms tells it there is something about your dog Lucy that reminds the old man of this friend’s dog, and, well, that might not make much sense but he’s damn sure harmless.
I’ll talk to him again – but if you or your kids see him back there, just shoo him off and he’ll come on back down the street home. Seriously – that time Henry sent him shuffling away with a bee bee in his ass was just plain mean.
Peace out –
Steve
I don't care who McClellan did or did not sire, my kin and I don't wanna see his spooky white legs trekking through the Back 40.
Next time he gets tasered.
-Vic from Crypto
Post a Comment