For all of you from Yorba Linda, this is part 2, not part 11. Those represent Roman numerals above, not ones. Just so we get that straight and avoid any confusion. I sure wouldn’t want you tearing your hair out trying to figure out where I posted the other ten installments to this.
As I mentioned in Part one, Johnnie B and I shared the same birthday but not the same year. He was born in 1958. I wasn’t. This was March 31st, a very auspicious date. I, however, was born at 1149 hours. I’m not sure how they do that time stamp on the birth certificate. Is it when your head emerges from the womb or when your feet part company from the progenitor? Is it when the umbilical cord is severed? All these questions and no definitive answers. All my mother would say was I was enormous and there was much consternation I might be born a fool. In spite of the Aries aspect (if you subscribe to astrology theory), the fact remains I was born under a fool sign. This has plagued my existence since I reached the age of reason. Cupcake insists that men never attain that age.
Be that as it may, since having at least attained the age of majority, I have a marked proclivity for jokes, pranks, and all things that bring a smile to the face. I started by putting pink flamingos in a friend’s yard after driving home drunk after an especially good 30th birthday party I don’t remember much about. I saw them in my neighbor’s yard a year earlier when I moved in. It’s a miracle I wasn’t shot or arrested for purloining them. I returned them a week later and I can imagine the look of wonder on the owner’s countenance when he woke up and discovered his charges had migrated safely home. This just whetted my appetite to breed my own flock for April Fool’s day.
Cast ceramic yard ornaments of any color are expensive. I had no idea. The newer plastic ones are cheap but these weren’t available in 1982. A trip to the yard statuary store in my city gave me a bad case of sticker shock. I settled for a 1/4 lifesize statue of a young man sitting on a separate stump holding a fishing pole in his lap. I disposed of the fishing pole and visited the adult sexual aids shop to obtain what could politely be called a “portable male appendage”. This completed the ensemble for April Fool’s Eve. It fit in the trunk of my sportster and was easily deployed even when extremely inebriated. All good things must come to an end eventually. My friends all started waiting up until 2 AM when the bars closed to make sure they weren’t that year’s recipient. It’s a given that no one wants to wake up and be sipping their coffee only to discover an aroused little man staring at them through their living room picture window. Or worse, to have a neighbor call to ask what that quaint statue represents on your front lawn. It all came to an end in 1988 when an uninitiated friend called the police. They came and confiscated my statue after taking copious pictures of it. He apologized for breaking the chain. He thought it was a hate crime for some reason. I’m not even going to entertain ideas on why he might have thought that.
My son loves my parrot we have had now for 32 years. In 2004 when he was in his junior year, I removed Buddy from his cage at 0 dark thirty and took him upstairs and put him in my closet on the coat hanger rod. I left the cage door open and strewed feathers I have collected for years all over the floor and out the cat door. Buckwheat Jr. came down to leave for school at 0700 and discovered what appeared to be the scene of a homicide. He frantically ran all over the back yard vainly looking in the bushes and shrubs for his favorite pet. After a short time, he burst into the bedroom and announced the horrible truth. Buddy, still in the closet, started laughing before I did. My son still has some hard feelings over that one.
Now that I don’t imbibe anymore, and most certainly am not out and about in the wee hours, I have new plans for my favorite day. As I am expecting a large windfall from Uncle Victor Alpha soon, I have made arrangements for the construction of some magnetic signs to attach to the sides of my vehicle. In addition, I am constructing and painting a large piece of 1/2″ plywood approximately 30 inches tall and six feet in length. It will be painted white and resemble a bank check in all respects including the “Pay to the order of”. The magnetic signs will proudly announce “PCH Prize Patrol”. I intend to arise early on April 1st, feed the barn animals and read the paper. I will don a suit and tie and proceed to the local florist for some helium balloons, and thence to the espresso stand across the street. I do hope I can induce my sweet wife to join me. Then the fun will begin. I will, of course take the camera to immortalize the event for you readers. I anticipate quite a parade…