“The pulse of the neighborhood”
OUT BACK – Give me a second and
I’ll be right with you. I’m trying
to find my pulse. I’ve been at it for three minutes. Nothing. If I were the
Coroner, I’d have to declare me dead at 7:52 p.m.
Beg your
pardon? Oh, I was watching one of those cop shows where a guy squatted down
next to a man lying in the street. The officer felt of the guy’s wrist for
about three seconds before saying, “He’s dead.” I decided to see how long it
would take me to determine if I was alive. It’s been three minutes and I’m
still dead.
Seems to
me the best way to determine if I’m dead would be to stick a pin in my arm, or
tickle the roof of my mouth with my toothbrush, or, heaven forbid, have someone
sing Captain and Tennille's “Muskrat Love.” Any of those would get a pretty quick reaction from a live me.
Speaking
of 7:52 in the p.m., have you noticed how long the days are getting? Well you
need to start. Each day will be little longer than the last up until June 21.
No, Matt, that’s not the Fourth of July. That’s the first day of summer, at
which point each day begins to get a little shorter until December 21. No, Thelma,
that’s not Christmas… unless you live in Canada. (I made that up.) That’s the first day of winter, after which
the days start getting longer.
By the
way, Monday is Victoria Day in Canada. I believe that’s when you can go to the
mall and sit on the lap of an old lady who looks like Queen Victoria, and tell
her what you wish you had gotten for Christmas the previous year. O’ Canada.
What’s
that? No, it’s not the rifle range. Well, some of it is, but most of the pops
are coming from nail guns being used on the houses on the next road over. This
subdivision is booming… and popping. The nail gun is considered, by most
carpenters, to be the best invention since the hammer-holder on overalls. Before
that, they had to stick the claws of their hammers on their bibs. Faris Hayter
was a carpenter for a good while, so I know stuff. – Beg pardon? Well, yes, he
had a good sense of humor. What does that have to do with anything?
Hold it
a second, Kay’s coming out. – Hi, darling! No, I’m just working on a grocery
list. – She’s out here to check her flower garden. Right now, she’s headed for
our blackberry bushes. You’d think they were planted in an Arizona rock garden.
Just something else I have to mow around.
– Excuse me a second. --
Sweatpea, I need to show you something! It’s important.”—Here she is. Sober up.
“Guess
what? I just found one red berry.” – “We must have Virginia and Freeman over to
share our bounty! Here, have a seat.” – “Why? What are you going to do to me?”
– “It’s just an experiment, Sugarplum. I need to find proof that you’re alive.”
– “If you had pulled weird stunts like this when were dating, you would’ve
ended up married to that girl with the dimples. What was her name?” – “Sugar Smacks,
when you walked into my life, I forgot all others. Now sit down and hand me
your wrist.”
K: “Captain and Tennille? Really? You’re feeling in the wrong place. Feel right here.”
M: “Sweetie, it is impossible for
the dead person to help the guy who’s looking for a pulse. But, if you insist, I will try your neck using with both my hands.” –
K: Okay, my darling jack ass, that's about enough of this."
M: “Well, I can't just leave you dead!” –
K:
“Have you been taking your pills, Jaw Man?” –
M: “Well, I did miss an antibiotic.”
–
K: “I’ll go get you one.”
Once she
realizes she has no pulse, she’s gonna hit the floor. Oh, about Jaw Man? Last
Friday I had some dental work done as a result of losing my bridge on the way
to Waco... which, incidentally, is the title of a new song sung by Kenny Chesney.
Turns
out the dentist couldn’t make a mold for my new bridge because the two teeth
the old bridge set on were decayed. One of ‘em had to be pulled. The root on
that tooth must’ve been wrapped around one of my ribs. When the dentist has to
get leverage by propping his knee on your chest, you’re in trouble. I don’t know how many times he had
to grab the inside of my cheek and give me a shot into my gums. The right side
of my jaw is still numb. I won’t be able to whistle until Christmas... in Canada.
Wow,
those nail guns are really getting after it, aren’t they. Fortunately, our house
is so well insulated that it stifles most outside noises. Unfortunately, the
music the guy a few houses down plays every weekend is horrible. Why do
people do that? Don’t they know that there are others on this planet? By the way, I don't know if you've noticed, but some rap songs have really bad language in 'em.
Well, I
guess it could be worse. We could be living across the street from a volcano.
And that, my friend, is one of the chief reasons Kay married me. Regardless of
the circumstances, I choose to focus on the positive. – Beg pardon? Of course, I’m joking.
end
Mark can be contacted at hayter.mark@gmail.com.
An archive of Hayter’s articles can be found at http://markhayterscolumn.blogspot.com
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