Postby Boots » Sun Feb 24, 2013 3:05 pm
Papa, you are clearly a dyed in the wool, steely-eyed pitman. I can't think of many people that would actually take the time and trouble to go out and buy a dishwasher just so they could get their hands on a cardboard box with precisely the right dimensions to make a cold smoker with. I mean, you must have spent hours in the storeroom over to the Sears with a Craftsman tape measure, running the pimply faced teenage clerk ragged, measuring all those boxes just to get the perfect one. And I bet money it was the very last one, perched in the very back, about 30 feet up on the pallet rack. And no extension ladder or cherry picker anywhere to be seen! But do you think that would stop Papa Tom? Heck and hockey sticks, no way. Just reached over and grabbed himself a coil of 40 foot three phase extension cord, formed it into a lasso, and with a hearty "Hiyo Silver!", he roped the top jagged end of that peg and hole prefabricated stanchion, and planting his Noconas firmly on the head of the nearest yard gnome in the bottom rack, with a mighty heave he rappelled up the side of that stanchion, past the yard sprinklers and paint stripper. On reaching the top, with a final Herculean effort, he hauled himself over top, landing with a thump on top, only to find himself surrounded by a pack of vacuum hose pool snakes ("Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes!"). Undaunted, he soldiered on down the shelf, almost decapitated by a falling yo yo weed whacker, and finally arrived at the prize, an obsolete analog Frigidaire, the culmination of Cold War CIA technology re-engineered for industrial use, and the last of the pre-Taiwan, PROUDLY MADE IN THE USA MODELS.
About this time, the Scottish born store manager shows up, and yells up at Papa Tom, "What the heck are ya doing up theer, ya blinkin' Gillie?". To which Papa Tom coldly replies, "I mean to be off with this washer in one minute, or hang you by the thumbs at Mama Papa's convenience. Which'll it be?". The Scot eyeballs Papa keenly for a moment, and then hollers out, "That's bold talk for a one-eyed Fatman, ye bugger!". Papa Tom snorts. "FILL YER HANDS, YEW KILT WEARING IMMIGRANT!!!". And with that, Papa yanks up the 3 Phase cord, grabs up the Frigidaire under one arm, and swinging the end of the extension cord up over a rafter like a bullwhip, he swings down like Saturday night Tarzan to see Jane, and plows the store manager with his size 12 Noconas into the cheap toilet seats in Aisle 5 down by the Cham-Wow display next to the Oxy Tornado cleaner.
After loading the Frigidaire up into the back of his '82 Toronado convertible and strapping down the trunk lid with some Arkansas chrome, Papa roars off into the night, leaving the pimply faced clerk mumbling, "I thought John Wayne was dead?!".
Well done.
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Last edited by
Boots on Thu Oct 23, 2014 2:20 pm, edited 2 times in total.
BE WELL, BUT NOT DONE
Hank: "Do you know how to start a man's heart with a downed power line?"
Bobby: "No."
Hank: "Well, there's really no wrong way to do it."