jaywalking with jesus part 9 3-24-11

8/7/2019 Jaywalking With Jesus Part 9 3-24-11

1/14

Of Moles and Men

The deafening, silent march of time continued to resonateunheard in my ears and all of a sudden I was in my late twenties. Iwasshocked to realize I was getting so old that some my siblings,friends and acquaintances were getting married. When my sister Ann(second youngest to me in the family of six kids) announced she wasbringing home her serious boyfriend from Oklahoma, we all knew thiswasnt just a fly-by. It was over the Thanksgiving/Christmas holidaythat Frank, the new boy in town, would make his debut, and I vividlyrecalled praying very devoutly for him.

My family was a very individualistic, independent and unique

collection of humanoids. I can safely say they all possessed awicked, dry and sometimes bizarre sense of humor and their rapierwits left no one unscathed. Holidays were always anticipated withunbridled gleeas a time to share with family, as well as a time to thrust and parryswords of humor and visit practical jokes upon the unsuspecting. Wewould discover that Frank, with his droll accent and laconic graceunder the unblinking eye of our scrutiny, was the perfectunsuspecting victim.

The whole damn clan (circa1975) minus Jack- plus Frank (hidingbehind Ann in graduation garb) and cousin Barb, second from right. Imust have been playing some sport that day. From left to right: Ken,


2/14

Ma Acker, Frank, Ann, Pop Acker, Dave, Barb and Marilyn. ThatsGophers Glen in the background.

Sitting around the massive Thanksgiving table, just recentlyintroduced to the entire family for the first time, Frank could feel myleopard-like glances as he tried to enjoy his turkey and dressing.

The entire dining room was already decorated for Christmas andas I gazed about admiring the decorations I continued to size up myprey, Frank. I was pleasantly surprised and a bit sexually arousedwhen I realized Frank looked like a deaf mouse with a pronouncedlimp. What was happening to me? What little joke could I spring onFrankie Boy?

Pre-dinner small talk before Franks Thanksgiving surprise. Thatsme on far left, then sister Marilyn, then Ma and Pa Acker. Frank wasseated where Pa Acker is when served that very special plate ofThanksgiving seconds. It all appears so innocently festive.

Rising to leave the table for more bird and goods, I politely askedFrank if he would like a little more turkey and gravy. Frankresponded with alacrity that he would be happy to accept. I exitedthe dining room with Franks plate and entered the kitchen thatabutted the back porch. After slapping some turkey, dressing andmashers onto Franks plate, I heard quite a commotion out in theenclosed back porch. My mother owned three or four cats at the time


3/14

and it was obvious theyd found some prey out there. I put down thegravy ladle and proceeded to investigate.

Pure naked luck intervened once again, and like a Beef Heartfrom Hell, my problem of how to torture Frank was solved. Openingthe porch door I was shocked to see William, the Alpha cat of mymothers clouder, triumphantly holding court (well, actually grasping itin those glistening white teeth) with his prey. Drooping from hismouth like a Fu Man Chu moustache of death, Little Bill the KillerCat held in his mouth the seldom seen, much maligned, almostmythical Star-Nosed Mole.

With a nose thats a fleshy geyser of pink, waving fronds of flesh;huge, scaly front paws with massive talons for dirt-digging, the great

Star-Nosed mole is an atavistic tribute to a subterranean world thatonly the blind mole can enjoy.

Although totally blind, the great star-nosed has a characteristichairless snout with 22 fleshy tentacles that allows the mole to feel itsway through dark tunnels and murky water. Laboratory tests haveshown that the star-nosed mole seems to be drawn to faint electricalsignals from its aquatic prey. If true, the star-noser and the platypusare the only known mammals to possess this ability.

It seems mymole was a rogue, aberration of a mole that could,even after death, detect faint electrical signals from the soon-to-be-bro-in-law Frank, who wasnt aquatic at all. Go Mole! Kill Frank!

I quickly realized this was a golden opportunity and wrested theblind (as well as dead) bestard from the felines implacable jawsbefore any extensive tissue damage or loss of limb occurred. Thiswas a lucky break of extraordinary, almost mythical proportions. Icouldnt have hunted down a star nosed mole on such short notice in

summer! Unbelievably, one was delivered to my back door! Thiswas surely meant to be, and Frank was the predestined victim.

Distracting King William with a haphazardly tossed turkey gizzarddown the outside stairs, I hurriedly spread his starry mole out on atowel and pondered the moles dead future and my next move.Well, I thought, Frank said he wanted more turkey and gravy, so


4/14

more turkey and gravy he was gonna get, along with a little, furrysurprise. I was simply beside myself with anticipatory mirth.

I grabbed Franks plate and slapped the dead mole down smack-dab in the center. Covering the star-nosed beauty with the slices ofturkey and sides of mashed taters and dressing, I finished Franksdish off with two ladles of gravy. Making sure the moles little tail andhuge shovel-like forepaws werent peeking from beneath themountain of turkey and gravy, I padded into the dining room like apanther and gleefully popped the plate-of-plenty in front of FrankieBoy.

Here you go Frank, and youd better finish all of it, no wasting offood around here; its a family tradition, I said.

I gave the look to my brothers and Father to let them know thiswas no ordinary second-helping for Frank and quickly slid onto mychair.

Thanks, Jack said Frank as he lifted knife and fork and plowedin.

We men could hardly stand it. Even though my Dad and bros

didnt knowexactly

what was in store, they knew it was on Frank andit was somehow connected to his plate. I almost swooned as Imused at what point Frank would uncover the carcass and learn whatholiday traditions were reallyabout.

Frank began sawing into the slab of turkey with grimdetermination and holiday hunger as I literally squirmed in my chair.Franks knifefinally hit china, and like a Thanksgiving miracle the sliced turkey

flipped over like a book page and there, in all its exploded pink-nosedglory was the mole. Lying in the puddle of gravy, the moles giantclawed forelegs made it appear it was actually swimming towardsFrank. Thats when the screaming began.

Dont touch it! my sister Ann screeched. My God, what is it?


5/14

muttered Frank in his Oklahoma drawl. His look of absolutebewilderment and revulsion was breathtaking. Jack you sick pervanother sister cried. My mother simply sat in stunned silence, put herhead in her hands and sobbed in submission.

Jack, for Gods sake, where did you get that mole? cried Popsthrough coughs of laughter, all the while trying to look stern anddisapproving.

The women folk cries of disgust and horror echoed throughout thedining room as me, my Dad and brothers laughed so hard tears werestreaming down our faces. Coming from Oklahoma, Frank had neverseen a star nosed mole before and as far as he was concerned itcould have been a Martians pet he was staring at.

Glorious! This is what Frank found underneath his slice of turkey in apuddle of gravy (Correct me if Im wrong; but doesnt it appear the

mole has had a manicure ?) The crowd went wild; what a fabulousThanksgiving memory!

Well, needless to say it was quite a moment for Frank and hisfiance, my sister Ann. By the time things quieted down and themole was given back to Little Bill, the feline killer, Frank had decidedagainst eating his seconds of turkey and gravy.


6/14

I really couldnt fault him, so we all raised a glass to his courageand good humor for facing the great star-nosed mole. What amagnificent joke it was. I wasnt sure if my sisters and mothershared this viewpoint, but I was sure this was truly an indelibleThanksgiving memory. Isnt that what the holidays are all about?

"Longneck" Lewis and "The Blind Robin"

Another incredible character in the scheme of my life and one of

my best friends was Barry "Longneck" Lewis. Arguably the laziestman in the world, his innate sense of sloth was remarkable. Once onabet, after playing a strenuous game of Jarts, Barry "raced" a gardenslug back to the patio. The slug won by an antenna.

Barry's life style was the inspiration for the Broyhill "Lazy Boy"chairs, but in a cruel twist of irony, he never made a dime from them.Asked time and again to be their spokesman (like the once fat, now

skinny guy named Jared for Subway sandwiches or the lucky VerizonSuper-Nerd with black-rimmed glasses) Barry blew it when he was"too tired" to take their phone calls.

His indolent life style was only matched by his remarkable thirstfor beer (longneck Budweisers) and high cholesterol, super-saturatedfat loaded foods. Longneck's diet was a cholesterol-laden,gastronomic nightmare that defied any and all dietary guidelinesendorsed over the last 200 years. Eating only a very limited numberof foodstuffs and

drinking only beer, his being alive was a modern medical miracle.

THE DIET: Pork - Ribs, loin roast, tenderloin, chops.Beef - Standing Rib, all steaks, hamburgers, smokies.Chicken - Thighs, wings, breasts, whole rotisserie.Sausage- (mostly breakfast and Italian) bacon

(Canadian and regular).


7/14

Pizza - Double cheese and sausage, NOVEGETABLES EVER. Pepperoni if pushed.

Potatoes - Mashed, baked with one half stick of realbutter, Tots, occasional French fries.

Chips, Cheese Doodles, Fritos, peanuts.Salad - Plain salad with lemon, consumed two times in

over 50 years.Beverages - Budweiser, any other kind of beer if Bud

unavailable. ****** In 47 years Id seen Barry drinkmaybe 40 cans of cola and saw him partake of water maybe fivetimes. This is no exaggeration and is why he is such a remarkableindividual.

ABOVE Left: Jacks roommate Barry with unknown wench in TheCave in mid-eighties. Guess what hes drinking? Correcto,

BUDWEISER! ABOVE Right: The Zogman, the greatest wheelmaneve,( telling us how he got back to Earth on a bobsled from Saturn)basking in his fame and fortune.

For years we all marveled at this walking "Meat Eating-BeerBomb", wondering how his system could withstand the constant

cholesterol/alcohol inundation. It wasn't until years later the mystery


8/14

was unraveled. Trying to give blood and make a quick buck, Barrywas as shocked as the Red Cross nurses when they discovered hedidn't HAVE BLOOD!

No red or white corpuscles flowed through this human beer keg'svessels at all. When analyzed, the Red Cross lab was horrified tofind Barry's "blood" was a thin, amber colored liquid that containedjust enough trace elements to sustain crude motor skills andvision, but was comprised mostly of barley and hops - the veryingredients used to make beer! What a fabulous, living testimony toBudweiser beer.

I couldnt drink that much beer, but I did okay with Scotch. Oncewhile enjoying copious libations at Micks I observed Longneck

goose-necking yet another Budweiser. Watching his Adams applebobbing up and down at a furious rate, I ventured to ask; Barry; howmany beers can you drink in an hour - at a good, healthy pace Imean?

He looked up pensively and poured more beer down thatBudweiser Black Diamond ski slope of a gullet. Wiping someBeachwood aged froth from around his pie hole, he belched outMebbe five-six if Im a little thirsty. How many Scotchs can youdownan hour he parried.

Longneck, I said, It not a race and it isnt cause Im thirsty ornot. But someday kid, youre gonna have to hit the long ball andlearn how to drink some whiskey. I doubt if that was good advice inany way, shape or form; but its all I had at the time. If the glove fits,wear it.

Barry's other passion in life, (that he euphemistically referred to

as a "hobby"), was betting. High school games, pro games, horses,horseshoes, overs, unders, parlays, teasers - it didn't matter what theevent; Barry would bet it. Of course, when you lose bets you have topay the bookie and there lies the rub.

Definition: Blind Robin n. A smoked herring snack served inbars and saloons.


9/14

OR: "Blind Robin ", as in Robin Rigatoni - the biggest, baddestbookie in Gopher's Glen.

Barely preceded in birth by his fraternal twin brother Salvatore,Robin was the youngest of fourteen children that comprised the hugeRigatoni clan. Robin and Sal were the only boys in the family andpaid a dear price. Surrounded by screaming, overemotional, shorttempered young women who were constantly ovulating, both boyspsyches were severely damaged at an early age. Living in a smallbungalow of a house that reeked of hairspray, nail polish, perfumeand garlic that had only one bathroom and one telephone was anightmare.

Poor Robin was "blinded" at eight years old while dueling with

Sal over the last meatball atop a mound of linguine. Fencing withknives and forks over the sauce smothered savory that was jarred offthe table, Robin bobbed when he should have weaved and Sal'sfork inadvertently yanked Robin's eye clean out of the socket. Fallingto the floor with a "thup" alongside the meatball, both combatantswere stunned into silence for a moment before Robin's high wail ofpain tore through the house.

"My freakin' eye!" screamed Robbie. "You stole my eye!"

At that moment the Rigatoni's family dog, a dachshund named"Ravioli", came tearing around the corner like a brown torpedo. Asthe Rigatoni sisters shrieked, "no Ravioli, nooooo!' the dog bee linedintothe kitchen with ear flaps down and claws digging for purchase on theslick linoleum floor

Ravioli, on a mission from God, eyes glued to the fallen prize,swooped in for the meatball and slipped on Robbie's eye like it was a

juicy, loose marble. Needless to say that was the end ofanyremotepossibility of reattaching the eye, and in the blink of an eyeball, poorRobin became "Blind Robin". Neither of the Rigatoni brothers gotthe meatball, Robin got a glass eye, Sal was grounded for a week,while Ravioli, the "meatball bandit", slept like a baby.


10/14

Though fraternal twins, the Rigatoni brothers grew up to be verydifferent from each other. The Blind Robin ate like a bird and dranklike a fish, while Salvatore (nicknamed the "Crisco Kid") ate anythingthat moved, wasn't frozen or was deep fried. The Blind Robinmanaged very well with his glass eye, though it became a bit"undersized" as his head grew larger with age. This presented asmall, at times embarrassing problem as it tended to shoot out of hiseye socket when he sneezed.

Years later our gang would meet at Mick's Cafe for a fewbeersand wed take turns dusting the floor with pepper when Robin wasunawares. Sooner than later he'd have a sneezing fit whereupon thatglass eye would fly out of the socket like a frozen pea. Bouncing

around the bar like a magicians cheap prop, we had many a laughchasing after the Blind Robin's eye after a good sneeze.

As for Big Sal, he grew up (and mostly out) to become ChiefTaste Tester for Krispy Kreme Donuts while Robin became a bigbookie in a small pond. Big bookie, small pond or not, Barry owedBlind Robin a boatload of money and payment was due.

Longneck, my fake wife Nancy, Wayne and Garry Noodles


11/14

MacNeil in the Cave circa mid 1990s.

My phone rang, I picked it up and it was Longneck.

"Hey Jack, I gotta go down to Mick's (one of our favorite bars)tonight to pay the Blind Robin, and I thought you may want to joinme," he said. Barry had been moaning all week about how muchmoney he owed the Robin, so this might be mildly entertaining andworth a few free drinks.

"Join you as in lending you the "payment part" or am I just joiningyou for a convivial adult beverage or two?" I asked.

"Well no, not the payment part, and actually I don't have the

money right now but I have a plan." Oh God, I thought "a plan".Every time anyone of us had "a plan" it somehow transmogrified into"a disaster".

Ill pick you up in five minutes and you can tell me "the plan"onthe way to the joint," I said.

Cruising down to Mick's, Barry outlined his plan.

"Here's what I'm thinking, Jack. You know how The Robinsneezes that eye out of his dry socket? Barry asked. I mumbled inassent. "Well this is kind of a rough plan, but I'm figuring, if I sit onhis blind side and make him sneeze that fake eyeball out and grab it,I can hold it hostage for the money I owe him."

He looked at me somewhat expectantly and not a little hopefully.

"Let me get this absolutely straight," I said slowly. "You're gonna

hold the Blind Robin's glass eyehostage? That's IFyou can get himto sneeze, and IFhis eye pops out, and IFyou're lucky enough tograb it." I shook my head in disbelief and said, "Longneck, this is along shot. I have to ask; are you gonna hold the eye hostage rightthen and there - just bust out and say 'Hey man, I got your eye...I'llgive it back to you if we're even on the bets.' You know Barry,maybe I'll just drop you off," I said.


12/14

"Well what else can I do? I don't have the cash," he whined.

"You're gonna have to tell him the truth and hope he tacks onmore interest and gives you a payment plan. This hostage eyeballthing is ridiculous," I concluded.

Nevertheless, we entered Micks to Sinatras Summer Wind andsure enough, there was the Blind Robin, sitting at the far end of thebar, hunched over his scotch like a monkey-eating eagle sucking on aCamel regular.

His huge bodyguard, Bo Konkey, sat next to him clad in a whitesilk shirt the size of a bed sheet like a monolith from Stonehenge. As

we approached, King Konkey swung towards us, a veritable bankvault door, his beef-brisket shoulder muscles bunching underneath asilk faade. A smoldering, bellicose brute of a man, hatred drippedfrom him like used motor oil.

His head was so wide it looked like an anvil and it was amazingthere was no brain matter in all that width of a head. All that meatand no potatoes, King Konkey was a loose nightmare floating abouton an endless Halloween.

The Blind Robin's scruffy, too long hair appeared as a ruff offeathers around his avian neck, and as Longneck and I drew closerhe turned his good eye towards us and smiled a nicotine smile. Bo,go find something to eat, at least fifty feet away said Robin.

A calved glacier, King Konkey drifted into the dining roomtowards the All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet. Reeling about the buffet line, hewas a great white whale, tethered by the invisible harpoon of hisaddiction; food.

"Gentlemen," Robin rasped, "what brings you here? Like hedidnt know it was pay the piper time.

Tommy," he told the bartender, set 'em up here, on me."

Thank God I thought, at least I get a free snap out of this.


13/14

Barry quickly took the stool on the Robin's blind side as I took theother. The Robin turned his good eye to me and said, I haven't seenyou in while Jack, how 'ya been?" I could see Barry in the mirrorbehind the bar grab a pepper shaker and furiously begin to shake it.

"Good Robbie, good," I replied, "And thanks for the drink."

Longneck was still pistoning the pepper shaker up and down asfast as he could, desperately goin' for the Big Sneeze.

The Blind Robin swiveled suddenly towards Barry and said"What the f--- are you doin' with that goddamn pepper shaker?!!"

"I...I...how did you see me," stammered Longneck.

"You idiot, there's a mirror behind the bar; you've only beendrinking here for a hundred years," cried Robin. "Put that freakinpepper down and let's talk bidness."

Expecting the worst, the evening ended rather calmly andLongneck's stupid "plan" died a deservedly ignominious, unspokendeath. Barry told the truth, the Blind Robin never sneezed andkindly extended Longneck's payment plan, and I consumed three

free drinks. But I wasn't the big winner in this fiasco; it was LuckyLongneck.

God works in strange ways, at times for strange people.

Three nights after Barry and I were at Mick's with the BlindRobin, we and the whole town was stunned and saddened to learnRobin Rigatoni, while leaving Mick's, had been killed immediatelywhen he was plowed over by a runaway meat truck. Big Bo Konkey(according to witnesses) bounced unharmed off the trucks bumper

and fled after stuffing innumerable steaks down his pants never to beseen again.

Surely the only one-eyed bookie ever run over by a load of stripsteaks, his memory lives on, his bets and vigorish uncollected. Barrywas saddened, of course, but not overly so. Bad luck for the Robin,


14/14

scoreboard for Barry.

Cat People and Pussies Galore

jaywalking with jesus part 9 3-24-11

Documents