Geez, Barry — can’t you take a joke?

I was driving home from the grocery store tonight when I sustained a frontal assault. Driving past the ballfields in West St. Paul I suddenly heard and felt a loud thump just as my vision immediately got very blurry.

There happened to be a guy sitting in the back seat along with the Mall Diva, and I thought at first that maybe Kevin had launched a preemptive strike on the poor boy. Once I pulled over and determined that everyone in the car was alright and that the reason I couldn’t see out the windshield was because of a series of concentric circles and cracks right in front of my face, I looked over and noticed several large guys standing in a nearby ballfield, studiously looking in the other direction.

I pulled into the parking lot and drove a ways over to the backstop where a large and rather sheepish looking guy was rubbing his head. “Heckuva poke,” I said, with some admiration.

“Thanks.”

“Got any insurance?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Fortunately he had all of his details with him and I got everything I needed.

I think I’m still going to have him tested for steroids, though.

8 thoughts on “Geez, Barry — can’t you take a joke?

  1. Now wait just a dog gone minute!!! My niece is in the back seat of a car with some guy, and you’re worrying about a broken windshield?!?!

    What ever happened to those Haggar(the Horrible) slacks? The ten rules? The veiled threats of imminent evisceration?!?!

    Since I am no longer driving everyday, would you like to borrow my “dog trainer”? With one in the chamber and eight in the clip, it could become the latest and most effective tool in your “Daddy’s Little Helper” arsena….um, I mean…bag of tricks.

  2. I’m with MD’s uncle on this one.

    I see that now the RM is gone, discipline is really starting to slid at the Night House. I may have to make a visit. And I’m not gonna stop with just a finger wagging.

  3. Evidently you’ve never been finger-wagged Kevin. It’s excruciating. It may or may not be one of the worst forms of torture devised by man, rivaled only, perhaps, by the comfy chair. Ooooo, it gives me chills just thinking about it.

  4. Sometimes it’s too late to throw them back….you just have to bury the evidence.

  5. UB: Wait- you say that the finger wag was designed by man?? I don’t think so!!

    *finger-wagwagwag*

    Uncle Jeff:…And what evidence are you planning on burying?

  6. *holding a shovel*

    Nothing….he’s not burying anything. Never you mind, you just go back to wagging your finger at Uncle Ben.

    So Uncle Jeff, you grab the legs, I’ll grab the head.

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