Let ‘er Rip

Jul 04 2010

An evening at Mouseburgers

Published by Yip under Voices

Picture it:

1970. A hot summer night.

Friend Libby and I are cruising through the Westport area, when we get the munchies. A couple of Libby’s REALLY good doobies will do that to a person. Just down the street is Woolfburgers, a greasy spoon (really greasy) where the ‘hippy set’ dines. Libby parks her Pontiac right in front. We run the gauntlet of people like us, sitting in front of Wolfburgers, panhandling.

‘Spare change? Got some spare change for me buddy?’

‘I’m real hungry, man. Spare change?’

We enter. The floor is slippery. It’s always slippery.

Grease.

We slide to a table and order two coffees and one order of French fries. The waitress scowls. She’s accustomed to people like us, who order small quantities of food. She’s probably thinking she should be waiting tables in the suburbs, where people order full meals and tip 15 percent. Instead, she’s stuck in this chintzy neighborhood where 50 cents is considered a large tip.

It’s a small restaurant. Maybe 8 or 10 tables. Most of their business is carry-out, from the panhandlers who finally beg enough money for a burger or two. So we’re sitting there in Woolfburgers giggling over our coffee and fries. Libby’s REALLY good doobies will do THAT to a person, too.

A girl sitting at the next table is staring at the ceiling for quite a while. Libby and I just figure she’s stoned or something. Then, the girl says to the guy with her, ‘Mike, they’re back. Look. There they are.’ Mike looks at the ceiling. ‘Oh, wow!’

Of course, Libby and I look at the ceiling to see who ‘they’ are.

The ceiling in Woolfburgers was one of those suspended deals, with tiles that are about 2 feet by 3 feet, with light fixtures the same size, flush with the ceiling, with 4 fluorescent bulbs in each one.

There ‘they’ are.

Mice.

Two good-sized mice, scurrying across the frosted plastic just below the light bulbs. Libby squeals just a little and looks at me, ‘Is that real, or am I stoned?’

‘Oh, it’s them alright!’ says the girl at the next table. ‘They show up every now and then.’ Mike says, ‘They ain’t hurtin’ nothin’. I think we should name them Heckle and Jeckle.’ The girl giggles and says, ‘But there could be a lot more of them. What would we name all of them?’ Mike says, ‘The Mormon Tabernacle Choir?’ The girl giggles uncontrollably and, gasping between giggles, says, ‘We call this place Mouseburgers.’

Libby and I decide it’s time to go. We leave most of our French fries. The waitress is sitting in the back, smoking a cigarette and looking at the ceiling. We never went back to eat at Mouseburgers.

The place isn’t there any more. I can’t imagine why.

Categories: Travel News.

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Jul 04 2010

Well SHIT! Welcome home, Yip.

Published by Yip under Voices

Well now. Ain’t this a fine how do you do!

I arrived back in the flatlands Sunday afternoon after a nifty weekend in Eureka Springs.

When I escape for a weekend, I usually stop by my office to check mail, phone messages, make sure the place is still there, etc. before the work week starts. Sort of a jump-start on Monday morning.

Well, this past weekend, while I was enjoying adult beverages and conversation in Arkansas, someone got a jump-start on me.

I walk into the building to find broken glass all over the bathroom. Someone broke one of the two windows there. The bathroom is at the back of the building, as are two back doors on different ends of the building, overlooking a parking lot that is not visible from the street.

Shit.

I walk to the other side of the building….the window in the door there is broken too.
Double shit.

Nothing is missing in the building, as far as I can tell. Nothing really messed up, except glass all over the place.

I figure if I’m going to report this to insurance, I’m going to have to have a police report. So, I call the police.

Copper shows up. ‘Well, Yip, this is an attempted burglary.’

Yip: Yeah? I just figured it was kids. I don’t think anything is missing.

Cop: You have a cash drawer?

Yip: Yeah. It’s got about 68 cents in it. And it’s all there.

Cop: I’m still going to call it an attempted burglary.

Yip: Well, whatever works.

We look around the parking lot in the back. Ah ha! Part of a cinder block is laying beneath the bathroom window. That’s probably what they used to break the glass. But wait! There’s BLOOD! Little spatters and drops all around the base of the window.

Cop: I’d better take a swab of this. If this is in the data base we might be able to connect the perp with other illegal activity.

Yip: Wow. That’s cool. Maybe we can collar a perp!

Cop: (now sounding even more ‘official’ than before, lowering voice slightly) That’s what I do, Yip. Collar perps and put away the bad guys. It’s my job.

The copper takes a little thing out of his pocket. It looks like a Q-Tip. He breaks one end of the Q-Tip. ‘See that liquid? That’s saline. It will soak into the cotton so I can swab the blood.’

Sure enough, I see liquid flowing down a tube into the cotton at the end. The copper dabs the cotton on one of the larger blood drops, then puts it in a little vial for safe keeping.

Cop: You never want to touch the cotton. It will contaminate the sample. We don’t want our DNA on here. Only the perps’.

Yip: Isn’t it supposed to turn purple or something?

Cop: Not in the saline. You know, a lot of what you see on those CSI shows is Hollywood at work.

**I’m thinking to myself** Too bad you’re not as hot looking as one of the CSI dudes.

Cop: Okay. I’m going to file this report. If I were you, I’d try to secure this window and door with plywood until you can have it replaced.

**again, thinking to myself** No shit?! I figured I could just leave it open for weather, small animals and …. PERPS to enter my building and make themselves at home! Not only are you not as hot looking as the CSI dudes, you’re not as smart, either!

(apparently the cop read my mind) ‘Those actors have scripts, Yip. What I do is all REAL.‘

So, while wishing the local cops were as handsome as CSI actors, I begin scouting around for plywood. The only good thing about this is that whoever did the deed got cut in the process. Bastard. There was no blood trail leading to a corpse, so I guess he got away.

Welcome home, Yip.

Categories: Travel News.

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Jul 04 2010

My brother thinks he’s SO smart.

Published by Yip under Voices

He is pretty smart, I guess. He reads a lot. Mostly Batman comic books. But, you know, one can learn a lot by reading.

Last night we were sitting around talking about that Jeopardy show, and how difficult some of the questions are. We were drinking Coconut Blazers (with little paper umbrellas!). By the third Blazer, he was saying

Brother: Naw, they ain’t that hard. I know most of them.

Yip: Bullshit.

Brother: No, really. Go ahead - ask me ANY question, I’ll bet I know the answer.

Yip: You’re on! Okay, let me think for a minute here. Okay, here’s one:
If revenge is a dish best served cold, what is a dish best served to 14 people in a row boat headed for disaster?

Brother: HA! Simple! The answer is purple bath robe!

Y: Okay, that was pretty easy. Here ya go:
If no English words rhyme with ‘orange’, what is the distance, in meters from Nebraska to the roof of my mouth?

B: Um….Venetian blinds.

Y: NO!! The answer is Benjamin Franklin! HA! GOTCHA!

B: Damn. I should have known that one. *thinking to self for a moment* Wait a minute here!! This is Tuesday! The answer is glycerin suppository!

Y: Shit! You’re right. I keep forgetting about The Tuesday Rule.

B: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!! You dumb ass.

~~~
Guess I’d better read more comic books.