I don't know what category this fits into. To me it is funny, sometimes gross things are. But, it is a simple observation that I have told a hundred times, hope you don't mind my putting it here.
I grew up in a mining town; you know the place. Five or six generations, living in the same neighborhoods, working the same black pits, sons who emulate fathers who are reflections of grandfathers on up the chain. How I got out is a long story, not to be told here. The simple fact is I made it out into the world, traveled and worked and learned and achieved far beyond what fate held for me had I stayed in the mines.
When I was a kid I had five really good pals. We made mischief together, prodded each other into acts that, at the time, seemed extraordinary. Now as I look back I see we were just campy little brats. But two of my pals became legendary, not for extraordinary feats of daring or bravado, but for being themselves.
One was Bobby Story – bugger picking Bobby we called him. He was a continual nose miner – a habitual digger of nostril nuggets. It seems he was completely impervious to public opinion and was prone to dig for buggers whenever and wherever the urge gripped him.
The other notorious friend was Erole Jones, the butt picker. Like Bugger Picking Bobby, Butt Picking Jones was habitual about his urges, and just as unaffected by public judgments. We would see Jones walking down the street yanking at his butt and dad would say, “He must be going to the ball game. He’s already picking his seat.” We always laughed, we heard it a hundred times but we always laughed.
I traveled back to that town some twenty years later; to visit family and friends and to show my children the town where I’d spent my wonder years. As luck would have it, just as I turned the corner onto Craft Street, lo and behold we saw two of my old pals, Bugger Picking Bobby and Butt Picking Jones, standing at the bus stop waiting to be picked up for their afternoon shift at the mine.
I pulled over to the curb as my wife and children wondering why. Before they could ask I said, “That is Bugger Picking Bobby and Butt Picking Jones, right over there.” I had already told them of my two pals and what pranks we pulled. I suppose they didn’t really believe that Bobby and Jones were real characters, just something dad made up to pass the time on a long drive. But right there before our eyes, Bobby stuffed a finger into a nostril just as Jones reached back to tug at the crack of his big butt.
Naturally the wife and kids were a bit grossed out, yelling “Eewwww! That’s nasty.” But I had to laugh. As they continued their casual conversation while performing their habitual acts, they reminded me of a radio voice-over announcer interviewing a clown balanced on a high wire.
My daughter asked what the two men were waiting for. I told her they were probably waiting for the afternoon bus that goes to the mines. “But that one man,” I said, holding back my laughter, “he might be going to the ball game. He’s already picking his seat.” It got a good laugh.
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Written by Phil (6645 comments posted) 29th April 2007 |
Stuff like this always has a pretty warm feel about it. I wonder what your failing was?
Nice bit of writing.
Phil. |
waiting for the bus
Written by bwoz (125 comments posted) 29th April 2007 |
Thanks for reading Phil.
I suppose the failing I had (have) is that there is a little bit of bugger picking Bobby and butt picking Jones in me as well; I would venture to say a little bit in all of us.
We each have our little faults, and failings, and things we do that irk others. But we also all have a little comfort zone that we operate in. Bobby's and Jones' comfort levels were very close to ground, not lofty at all, and in that realization there are (in this story) pretty happy people --
Morale of story: Who cares what other people do as long as it is not harming others.
thanks for comment, I can always count on you.
BW |
P S
Written by bwoz (125 comments posted) 29th April 2007 |
But I really did intend some childish humor; I still laugh at gross things, longs as no harm is done.
BW |
Written by Phil (6645 comments posted) 30th April 2007 |
I can't help but laugh at gross things - I think it's a male default position.
Phil. |
Written by fellpony (1580 comments posted) 30th April 2007 |
I enjoyed this too (my female sensitivities must have blunted a little, perhaps because the things you see on the farm can out-gross most men. Cows pick their nostrils with their tongues, direct. I won't go on.)
Bwoz, I felt your last 2 paragraphs were anticlimax; why not leave the oh-so-well-remembered activities as the last line of the tale? |
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