So I was at my brothers' place (the three of 'em live together in a giant yellow house) and we got to reminiscin' and tellin' old stories. Dave told us about the time when we all lived back in Cornwells (just me & my older brothers - Xavier wasn't around back then.) Well, Little Davy was about six years old, riding his two-wheeler around the cul-de-sac as happy as can be. Then a car turned down our street and "I flipped out for some reason, seein' this car headin' towards me, and couldn't figure out which way to go. So I swerved sharp to the right and ran smack into the Century 21 sign outside Jimmy Elmore's. Yeah, those fuckin' metal signs from the 70s. KABLAM!! The fuckin' bike stopped but I crashed head first into the sign, crushing my bouillons in the process. Then, Wayne, man, your mom was walking and saw the whole damn thing. She tried so hard not to laugh when she heard that GONG! from my melon hittin' the sign." "She just stood there??" "Naw, of course not, man, she consoled me and all. But she was doin' that unmistakable 'tryin' not to laugh' laugh the whole time."
Ahhh...thems was the days.
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2 comments:
Bouillons are CUBES, aren't they??? Is there some dastardly family hereditary oddity you'd like to tell me about???
and usually wrapped in gold!! that was my fave part of the story, as it's rare that any of my brothers say any words referring to the culinary arts in any way.
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