So fucking hot and the only consolation is this tasty parsley.
When I was younger (actually, yesterday but for the style of the narrative, indulge me), I would while away the hours and watch the comings and goings of the squirrels in the trees around.
In the dense heat of summer, there appeared one squirrel who set about creating a nest to which he wished to woo a mate. The squirrel found a crook in the branches of a tall tree and set about gathering leaves from other boughs. He would bring the leaves and bits of branch back to the crock, work away, and slowly formed the beginnings of his nest.
However, poor Mr. Squirrel had chosen a bad crook and it was not at all shaped to receive his nest. For every leaf and twig he added, several would fall from the bottom of the nest to the ground. But day after day he would work—racing about the limbs of the tree, collecting leaves and twigs, racing back to his nest and setting to, never noticing that his nest actually seemed to be diminishing the more he worked.
In the process, he was making enemies. The people who owned the garden beneath his soi-disant nest kept having to pick up all of the fallen leaves and each time would shake their fists at the sky, seeing the squirrel and bellowing at it. But the squirrel was too far up and did not fear them and simply kept on working, day after day.
Finally, Mr. Squirrel stopped, sat himself in his nest (which now was simply three or four leaves and a a few sharp twigs which poked in his eye and skin) and he waited. He waited and waited for a mate who would never be wooed to his nest as all the normal female squirrels were busy fucking male squirrels who were not such imbeciles and had created nests more lovely and in which babies could be born without summarily becoming small blobs of flesh, bone and blood on the ground beneath.
The moral of this tale is: Always plan ahead and if you're retarded you should be renting.
This is a fable the Mooks have apparently not read. Three days ago we were watching a movie in the dreadful heat and Mook A asked Mook B, "Did you check the dimensions on the web site of the couch that's arriving tomorrow?" B had not, went to the Sears web site and discovered the couch a) might not make it up the stairs of the third floor apartment and b) might not pass through the doors if it got there. He phoned Sears in a panic, explained that we lived in a 125 year old building and the company rep said, "We've never not been able to deliver a piece of furniture." (Of course, the company rep was likely someone who lived in Bangladesh where they don't have furniture, they eat it.)
The next morning, at nine, the delivery men arrived and this is when the Mooks learned: those who can, do, and those who can't hire those who can. These guys were fucking amazing. Not big, but they must have been just little stacks of muscle because in the fucking heat they did superman stuff.
Of course Couchzilla did not pass through the door at the top of the stairs and B danced about in embarrassment. He asked the real men what they could do to avoid sending the damn thing back to Sears and having to start the process over again. (Oh! Did I mention they had been waiting for this thing for a month and had already dismantled the couch which used to be in the living room? My own little pair of Retarded Squirrels.)
The men told the Mooks they could try bringing it over the balcony but just to try that would cost $80. By this time Mook A was in tears of laughter, B was ready to suck their cocks to solve this problem. So the sum was agreed to and that's when the real men really did their stuff. One of them ran up and down the two flights of stairs to spot the couch so that it would not kill pedestrians. The other simply yanked it slowly up to the balcony, strapped to his chest and neck.
They did get it in, but there was the small matter that they could not get it into the living room which meant the whole floor scheme of the place would have to be redone to put a bedroom in the living room and vice versa. A, by this time, was hiding on the balcony to cover up his mirth. B was getting hotter and was pissed. So they took a door off its hinges and the real men just pushed and like those baby squirrels which were born in other nests, the door was was finally delivered of the gargantua and all was well. Payments, tips and unpacking followed.
However, all was not over. B had not taken A's cruel joviality particularly well and for the rest of the day it was a nice little snipe-fest in my home. You ain't seen bitches 'til you've seen two males who have been together for 16 years go at it.
By nightfall peace reigned and we were in front of the TV, me curled up on the end of this scarlet monstrosity.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a couch to go pee on.
No comments:
Post a Comment