Folks who know me have come to expect I’ll always salt in some April Fools humor into any holiday. I was going to write a long, heartfelt story about one of my Vets but this is a time for joy and celebration. What the hey? We, or most of us, made it through another spin around the sun. Cupcake and I did lose eight clients to Agent Orange and cancers and that is regrettable. With any luck, Secretary Collins will discover the magic formula for accomplishing claims in a short(er) period of time and we can retire the term “hamster wheel”. Seems that hat trick has eluded every Secretary going back to Ed Derwinski. But harken nearer, my sisters and brothers and listen to a true story.

Allow me to introduce the time, place and characters to put it in better perspective. The setting is upscale southeast Bellevue, Washington- a posh, residential home several blocks up the hill from Lake Washington with a glorious view of the lake and mountains.

The time is pre-Christmas, 1987- maybe ten days before the celebration of the coming of Christ. Not only was this a Christmas party. It was also the culmination of Dick and Jane’s five-month remodeling job/housewarming party. I and my fellow workers were invited.

The Office

The major characters were Dick and Jane (names changed to prevent my being murdered)- the owners for whom we did the remodel, many of their friends who worked for Dick’s company, and two of my fellow blue collar construction buddies. John was a taper, plasterer and painter extraordinaire with an exquisite eye for detail. Bubba, my best friend, worked for me and was a  carpenter who could build anything. He was also a great drywall expert. If I wasn’t busy, John would borrow Bubba to help him catch up. I knew Bubba for almost three years before I found out his real name was Dave. He always asked to be paid in cash.

To give you an idea of Bubba, he was a dead ringer for that Gallagher guy with the sledge-o-matic who smashed watermelons up on stage. We’d be sitting at the bar at Happy Hour at our favorite watering hole and would frequently get free drinks when guys would come up and ask to get a picture with him.

As most of the folks there were stinking rich and driving Porsches, Bubba, John and his wife and I were all in a group talking by ourselves because we didn’t know any of them. We were dressed in our cleanest blue jeans and old high school sports jackets. Dick or Jane had introduced us in passing to some of their friends to boost business prospects but none had cornered us and asked for the inevitable guestimate “air bid” to do their kitchens…yet.

After several hours and way more than a few adult beverages, over comes a 35-ish looking, 126 lb. fox with her husband discreetly trying to impede her forward progress. She was grinning like the Cheshire Cat from ear to ear and had that 86 proof glow of purpose in every step. And she was headed right toward me.

Bubba and I were both single at the time- sort of. He had an on again, off again relationship with a gal but his PTSD was pretty bad. She could only take just so much of him. He was an 11 Bravo and walked point for his last six months in-country back in 67 to 68- including the Tet festivities. He preferred a Remington Model 12 to a shorty 16 and made up for it with about 10 hand grenades hanging from everywhere on him. This was back before the hierarchy decided WPs could be harmful to our health.

Me, I was dating Cupcake’s best friend. She was married to another at the time and all I could do was wait until she realized he was a total ditz and dumped him. I had to wait seven years for one of her (and my) best friends in Colorado to call me and tell me she was single again.  I know. It sounds like a retread of the Lovin’ Spoonful’s Better Make Up Your Mind but it wasn’t like that. But wowser that’s another story.

So here comes Mrs. I-work-out-at-Crossfit with the husband waterskiing behind her up to our circle. “Hi. I’m Marcy and this is my husband Tom. We were just talking to Jane and she said you’re the General Contractor on this beautiful house. I introduced them to the rest and conceded I was the one. I foolishly offered a “I take it you’re in the market for a makeover on your place, too?”. “Well, not exact-ly…”

She moved in closer like -you know- almost intimate closer and jumped right in. I’ll never forget she was wearing one of those Madonna-type bras and dang near had me speared with both barrels. She starts out looking down coyly but fairly loudly so everyone in our vicinity could hear and screeches out ” So I hear you served in Viet Nam, huh?” She done caught me flat-footed. That was the absolute last thing I expected to come out of her brain.

The room around us went quiet. So lame me throws in yep. Ol’ Bubba was too and he sure had it worse than me. Before I could end the vowel, she laid it out in three-part harmony like it wasn’t the first time and says “So tell me, how could you bring yourself to kill all those innocent women and children? Huh? Explain that to all of us. I’m sure we’d all like to hear.”

By now, I had gin and tonic- flavored spit all over my face after her primal screams, so I backed up a tad and paused. I was getting ready to launch the truth and explain most of the gooks I’d toasted were definitively male judging from 200 or so feet above them while flying over. But you know that April Fools gene. I looked over at Bubba with a twinkle in my eye and the beginnings of a smile but he was already shaking his head “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo”.

Now, Bubba and I liked to go to Viet Nam movies but not to bathe in the blood and guts and relive painful memories. We’d go out to dinner and have a few and head out to the movie. We’d sit about mid-theater and critique them out loud in real time. With popcorn and co-colas. Bubba’d  say something like “That’s so bogus. Look at the safety. It’s on. How you gonna mow them slopes down like that?”  I guess you could say we spoiled it a bit for the others. ETOH can do that to you. But so can serving in the Nam.

Bubba and me had recently gone to see Full Metal Jacket and I remembered that line from the doorgunner in the H 34 chopper talking to Private Joker. So, without further ado, I looked her square in the eye and cheerfully explained. “Well, you see Marcie. It’s far easier than you’d imagine. Women and children don’t run as fast as the men so you don’t have to lead them as much-especially when you’re shooting on full auto.”

Well, that kind of put a fork in it. Everyone moved back a few steps from us and nervous conversations and the glances began in whispers. Marcie started crying and her husband put his arm around her and walked away glaring back at me. Jane came over and suggested maybe it was getting late and we both had a long, long, looooong way to drive to get home so thank you soooooo much for coming and we hope to see you again soon. The only thing missing was a Thank you for your Service but it would be a few more years until they broke out the parades for us and came out with that inane “Welcome Home” shit like we just got off the Freedom Bird.

What’s weird about the whole party shindig thing is it didn’t generate a single job lead for any of us. Go figure. I saw several guys there who almost busted out laughing and had them pegged as potential work. In years since, I’ve always gotten a chuckle over the look on Marcie’s face when I said that. I sort of got a sneak preview of what she was going to look like in 30 years-a mass of wrinkles and runny mascara.

So that’s my story and I’m stickin’ with it. Merry Christmas and Thank You for Your Service. Y’all come back now. Hear?

P.S. Ed the LURP sent this in. I love the soundtrack.

https://vidmax.com/video/236272-this-was-the-moment-this-thief-realized-he-picked-the-wrong-address