Saturday, June 18, 2011
(Father) Bull Sh*t
If there was ever a time when I was trying to get the better of my dad he would speak to me by telling other people in the room what he was observing. And if there wasn't anybody in the room he would look at me and speak to the invisible man beside us. He would say, "The young calf is trying to overtake the old Bull." Translation: "I find your speech and behavior to be very interesting. In fact, I see it as a challenge. You think you are big and tough and that I am feeble and weak. You think this is a good time to exert your independence while I do not. You will soon learn your timing in this matter was horribly misjudged." Then he would chuckle. Translation: "This is very cute."
You can only try to overthrow the old Bull so many times before discouragement sets in. It's like the tethered young elephant who can't get away. Even when the elephant becomes an adult he can't escape from the same rope that is now, compared to the elephant, very small. Maybe you think this is sad but fear not my friends. My dad was right. Timing is everything. And my plan is coming together perfectly.
My plan is so wonderfully perfect that I will even go as far as to tell you what it is. And why would that be so risky? Because he reads this blog. You heard me correctly. He will soon be reading these very same words as you are doing right now.
You see, my father is almost 63 years old. In 30 years he will be 93 years old. Do you see where I am going with this. That's right. Even though I will be almost 66 years old I will still be much stronger than him. That is when I will strike!!! Pillow over face for 5 minutes and I'm done! I'm completely kidding. Or am I? No, of course I'm kidding.
Why am I telling you this the day before father's day? Because operation "Bull out to pasture" will be fully operational on father's day 2041. Let me set the scene. He is sitting in his armchair watching television. I come in with a bowl of chips. He will ask for one. I will say, with fear and trepidation, "no". He will stare me down which will make my legs go numb. With my numb legs I will get up and stumble over to the remote control. He will lunge and grab it before I can. I will try to take it and be surprised his arthritic hands are so strong. He will try to bite me with his false teeth but it will be no match for the gardening gloves I will be wearing in expectation this may occur. I will change the channel to a romantic comedy I have already set up in the DVD player. Better yet, a science fiction movie. He doesn't like science fiction. Oh, and it will probably not be a DVD player but some sort of 3-D interactive machine.
Again, I imagine I will be shocked at his grit and determination when he proceeds to grab my hair in order to pull it with force. But I will have again prevailed since I will have disguised my hair loss with a toupee for all of these years. With him now on the floor I will, yes indeed I will, sit in his armchair. I will then set the chips far enough out of his reach he will be able to smell them but not touch them. And if he digs his fingernails into the carpet in order to gain ground? I will pour an already prepared glass of ice water onto them. With all his energy spent, and in an effort to avoid watching the movie, he will fall asleep. It may be around 4 pm so it could be past his bedtime anyway. I will then put the remote in his right hand (without batteries and the movie on a loop), leave my wig in his left, dip his teeth in lemon juice, and push the soggy chip bowl within reach (in case he is there for a while and gets desperate).
I imagine I will take the doorknob in my hand and turn it to the right, think for a moment, and turn to look at my father. I will feel bad. After all, the only thing he had was his dignity and now it is gone. But then I will regroup, stick out my chest, and pronounce, "The young calf has won!" And even though the next day he won't remember what happened. I will.