“Uncle Marty, tell us the story about that time you broke your arm!”
“Yeah, Uncle Marty, tell us! Tell us how you did it!”
“Listen, I already told you little bastards that story a dozen times.”
“We wanna hear it again! We wanna hear it again!”
“Alright! Alright, already. Just shut up and one of you go get me another beer.”
“I will! I will!”
“And don't run with it! You'll shake it up. I'll wait to start until you get back.”
Fourteen seconds later: “That was pretty fast...Sure you didn't shake it up?”
“Uh-uh, Uncle Marty. Honest I didn't. You'll see!”
“You better be right, kid, or no story...” Pshtttttt! Glugluglugluglug... “Ahhh, that's better. You're lucky. Now let's see, it was Summer...2006...August, I think...No, wait. July...
I'd spent the whole day working - ten hours, moving very heavy stuff from one place to the other. It was a Saturday, but I worked all the time back then, I was self-employed you know. When stuff needed to be moved, I had to jump on it. There was no telling how long before they'd invent some kind of computer to move the stuff and then nobody would need me anymore. So when the work was there, I did it. Without complaint. I was strong back then, a lot stronger than I am now and stronger than any of you kids will ever be.”“Not me! I'm gonna be stronger than you!”
“Do you want me to tell the story or not?”
“Tell it, Uncle Marty!”
“Then don't interrupt me!” Glugluglugluglug. “Now where was I...?”
“You were moving stuff!”
“Oh, yeah. I moved stuff all day that Saturday. Heavy stuff. And the weather was hot, like ninety-nine degrees. It got hot even back then, you know. Not like it is now, but still plenty hot. It was way before they built the bubbles and I had to work outside under the sun all day long. You kids will know what it's like outside the bubble some day...”
“I already been outside the bubble!”
“Liar! And I thought I said NO INTERRUPTIONS!” Gluglugluglug... “Anyway, I was working outdoors and got myself pretty tired, but not too tired to ride my bike into town for some beer and some food. I'd planned to watch the Tigers play the Yankees on television. They went to the World Series that year, the Tigers. The last time they made an appearance. I had old-fashioned broadcast TV back then and the game was only on cable, so I figured I'd hop on the old bike and pedal uptown to see it...”
“What's broadcast TV?”
“When I was your age the only way we could watch our favorite shows was to have an antenna hooked up to the TV set and pick the signal up out of the air.”“Out of the air?”
“Yeah, it worked like cell phones and wireless used to work before they had to stop using them and hard wire lines into everything because they were killing all the insects and the birds.”
“I know what insects are...they're bugs!”
“Bugs...bees...cicadas...crickets...the high frequency waves they were sending through the air was killing all of them. And the smaller birds. Anyway, I ride my bike up into town, see? And I lock it up to a telephone pole on the sidewalk smack dab in the middle between my two favorite watering holes...”
“Watering holes?”
“Bars...places where you could go and get a drink. That reminds me...Go get me another beer one of you...”
Nine seconds later...Pssshhhhttttffttt! “DAMN IT! I TOLD YOU NOT TO SHAKE IT UP!” Glugluglugluglug... “So I'm sitting at the bar watching the Tigers whip the Yankees and I get hungry, right? I'd had maybe three pints of ale by then, had my mouth set on a hamburger - rare, fries, maybe some onions rings and more beer, of course. The only problem was the place I was at didn't make hamburgers or fries or onion rings...”
“No hamburgers?”
“No. No burgers. And in 2006 they used real beef. From cows. The good stuff. Not that crap they grow in tanks nowadays. So I finished up and headed across the street for the burger because they did make them over there, at my second favorite bar. The one with the deep fryer and the grill.” Glugluglugluglug... “Ahhh. So I sit down at the end of the second bar and order me another beer, the burger and onion rings. I eat my grub, have two more beers and then decide to head home and enjoy the sunset sitting in my back yard under the trees, no bubble...just me and the birds and the crickets and the sun turning the clouds pink and orange and red. I'm feeling pretty good by then, not drunk, but good...”“You said last time you were drunk!”
“Well, I wasn't. Just nicely lit that's all. Lit means a little drunk, okay? So I start to get on my bike, put my left foot on the pedal and swing my right leg up and over the seat like I was a cowboy getting on a horse. Only problem was, I caught my leg on the seat and lost my balance, fell backwards towards the curb. I'm laughing at this point, right? Thinking I'm gonna fall on my ass, dust myself off and get on with it. But just as I hit the ground I feel my left shoulder go THWACK against the telephone pole and my arm goes numb. Just like that! I tried to lift my arm up and it just wouldn't lift, sagged at the elbow and just laid there on the ground. Somebody told me later that it wrapped right around the pole.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Yeah, did it hurt, Uncle Marty?”
“Not much at that point, but it started to soon enough. Anyway, I thought I'd dislocated my shoulder. I just couldn't believe it could be broken that easily, so I grab my wrist, sit up and twist it around and put in my lap to straighten it out, thinking I can pop it back into the socket.”
“Eewwww!”
“All of a sudden I'm surrounded by people and they tell me to just lay back down, that an ambulance is on its way. I argued with them, told them I thought I'd be all right but they insisted that I lay back down. I could hear sirens at this point, so I figured, what the hell, I'll lay back down.”“You were drunk!”
“NO, I WAS NOT! Now shut up! So an ambulance shows up, a fire truck, three cop cars and they wrap me up in a sling and the ambulance drives me to the hospital after the cops lock my bike back up. I sat in the hospital for two hours, they X-Rayed it, told me it was broke - a greenstick break they called it, where the bone breaks like you're breaking a branch from a tree. They stuck needles in my good arm, bruised it all up trying to find a vein, bruised it so bad that the next day my right arm looked like an overripe banana stuck full of holes. Anyway, they never even set it, just put a cast on it the way it was. I told them that I had set it myself on the scene and they didn't seem to believe me, but the alignment was good enough, so the doctor put a plaster cast on it and they sent me on my way.” Gluglugluglugluglug... “That doctor didn't look much older than you, kid. He had red hair and didn't even look old enough to shave.”
“I got whiskers!”
“Like hell. Go get me another beer.”
Twelve seconds later: “You better not have run with it thish time. I'm telling ya...” Pshtttt. “That'ss better...” Gluglugluglugluglug... “So I catch a ride back up to where my bike is. At the emergenshy room they tell me they're gonna call me a cab, but I pretend like I'm going out to catch it and then jush start walking. After walking a mile or so, shomebody finally picked me up and dropped me off where the bike was. I made sure it was locked, then went into the firsht bar I'd been to and had another beer. They told me they thought shomebody got hit by a car because of all the copsh and shirensh.” Glugluglug... “Then I went acrosh the shtreet and got another beer and the girl, my favorite waitresh, Janine, jush laughed at me. Ghod she wazh cute that Janine. Big brown eyes...great ash.”
“Were you drunk by then?”
“No. I dinent get drhunk at all. After that I got back on the bike and rhode it home one-hanned, in third gear. Hall the whay. They dinent even give me anyany pain killersh at the hoshpital. The worsht part was, I coonent work for t'ree monthsh, coonent move mush of hanything and I jush ate TV dinnersh ev'ry night becauzhe I honly had one good hand and coonent cook my hown fhood. My han' shwelled up an' my fingerzh looked like shaushagezh!” Gluglugluglug... “I laid downshtairsh hall day and halmost wen' brhoke. Ev'ybody told me I should shue the barzh for hovershervin' me, the power company 'cuzh of the pole, the shity of FuhFherndhalia, but I jusht wazhn't like that back then. Boy, if I hadhad it to do hover I'd have had a lawyer tosh shome paperwork at shomefuckinbody. I jusht dinent want that girl who wazh working at the shecond bar to loozh her jhob. Oh, and I mished the shunshet, too, bytheway. Shomebody tol' me it was shpeck...shpectacular. The nashural onezh were sho much better than the onezh we shee through thezhe shitty bubblesh...no dishtortionsh, jusht beautiful colorzh...hic...” Glugluglugluglug...“You're drunk now, Uncle Marty. Aren't you?”
“NHO!! HIME NHOT DRHUNK! NHOW ONE OF YOU BASHTARDSH GHO GHET ME HANOTHER BHEER! AND FHIND OUT WHEN THAT GHODDAMN TURKEY WHILL BE READY!!... I shoulda shued the pantsh offa thozhe pricksh...”
“He's drunk alright.”
“Yep."
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