Memories, Routines & Cascading Puss

Well, did you watch yesterdays movie clip….. have you recovered yet. Yes – clearly it was too much way, way, way, too much, but it was also fun.

Tons of fun, the kind of fun you can only experience drunk in Mexico, waking up in a bathtub full of Ice, missing your kidney, with some kind of infection, that desperately needs draining – but you can’t quite focus on that because as far as you can tell somehow, you’ve managed to scratch your corneas, yea, both of them and vision is not exactly crystal clear – besides the burrowing Mexican sand beetles that have anchored themselves deep into the fleshy meat of both shins are sending rivers of blood and puss cascading down your leg, it’s only then you cry out in pain and frustration to discover your tongue has been…… Oh hang on, I’m just picturing what the brochure for Mexican Tourism would look like…….. somewhere I would need to work in dysentery of course…

I guess there was probably a little too much information there for you, but I’ve been in a bit of a thoughtful, reflective mood since earlier this morning. Normally I wake up around 2 or 3 in the afternoon just before the kids get home from school, because I want to be out of the house before they see me, they think I still have a job. So gullible…. Then I head out on my dumpster route looking for recently expired food that is still mostly edible, then it’s off to do a couple of hours as a window washing panhandler at intersections, from there I make a large looping round of the city, looking for un-recycled materials that I can collect and sell – that leaves me about an hour to donate blood and, and.. well, you know, the other fluid men can donate……. that gives me 24 minutes to get changed into my long coat and fedora and head for the last seating at the soup kitchen, so when I get home I can tell the kids, I’m not hungry – I ate at work, it leaves more for them….


Like I said that’s normally what I do, but today was different, I did a bit of cleaning up and found an old box of letters I had written as a kid to my imaginary friend Woolwinthorpington, he was an english manor lad and the best most cultured and refined friend you could ever hope for… anyways one letter in particular stuck a cord and before I had gotten halfway through it, I was transported back to the time it was written… I’ll just read you a quick bit, honestly I think it helps explain quite a bit about how and why I am how I am… but you be the judge –

Dear Wooly,

Our Scoutmaster told us to write to folks back home in case you saw the flood on TV and got worried. We are okay. Only one of our tents and 2 sleeping bags got washed away. Luckily, none of us got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for Adam when it happened.

Steve and I threw up, but Scoutmaster Ted said it was probably just food poisoning from the left-over chicken. He said they always got sick that way with food they were forced to eat in prison. I’m so glad he got out and became our scoutmaster. He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was doing his time. By the way, what is a pedal-file?

………… it goes on and on for another 19 pages that way…. basically I wrapped it up by saying…

I have to go now. We are going to town to post our letters and buy some more beer and ammo. Don’t worry about anything. We are fine and tonight it’s my turn to sleep in the Scoutmaster’s tent.

God, that takes me back, that was an awesome summer, strangely I didn’t remember much of it, but I do remember Scoutmaster Ted kept making us all chew these funny tasting leaves and eat these mushrooms….. oh wait a minute…… you don’t think….. Oh God…  I’ll bet that’s exactly why I was so sore when I go back…….

Stay tuned for more fun and fascinating stories of my best friend, Woolwinthorpington.

Have a Great Day