What a way to wake up
In the mid-1980s, Tardist and I both lived with our parents in their Flint apartment. It was kind of a tight squeeze, as you might imagine, and there was only one bathroom for the five of us (Tardist's then-wife lived there also). As families do, though, we managed to work around the toilet shortage in a fairly civilized manner, with very little bloodshed and only a bit of cross-legged dancing.
I was working at 7-Eleven then, pouring Slurpees, selling noxious coffee, and wishing disfiguring diseases on difficult customers, and I generally worked second shift. That left me wide awake late into the night, with plenty of time by myself to drink beer and think awful thoughts, and I took full advantage of those opportunities.
Tardist, on the other hand, had a first-shift factory job that required him to be on the road by 5:30 a.m., a cruel, cruel hour of the day, so I was often just going to sleep as he was stumbling out of his room in the morning. Being the thoughtful little sister that I am, I took it upon myself to brighten his dreary ass-crack-of-dawn experience by leaving him the occasional rude note or drawing, since I was up until 3 or 4 in the morning, buzzed and bored.
Out of all the obnoxious wake-up notes I left for my brother, I can only remember one of them, and I really wish I still had a copy of it. After I giggled my silly ass into tears drawing it, I taped it up over the toilet so it would be the first thing his bleary eyes beheld that morning. The picture was of a group of men in military garb, all bent over, pants down, with funnels in their asses. Their eyes were all on their commander, who stood by with a raised sword, ready to send them into action. The caption read:
The Diarrhea Squad had their orders: Shit to kill.
Oh, I can offer the excuse that I was 20 years old when I created that monstrosity, but then again, that does nothing to make up for the fact that I'm still laughing about it. Because I am so sophisticated and mature. Damn, I miss that cartoon.
Maybe I should recreate it in a painting. That'll get me a gallery show.
I was working at 7-Eleven then, pouring Slurpees, selling noxious coffee, and wishing disfiguring diseases on difficult customers, and I generally worked second shift. That left me wide awake late into the night, with plenty of time by myself to drink beer and think awful thoughts, and I took full advantage of those opportunities.
Tardist, on the other hand, had a first-shift factory job that required him to be on the road by 5:30 a.m., a cruel, cruel hour of the day, so I was often just going to sleep as he was stumbling out of his room in the morning. Being the thoughtful little sister that I am, I took it upon myself to brighten his dreary ass-crack-of-dawn experience by leaving him the occasional rude note or drawing, since I was up until 3 or 4 in the morning, buzzed and bored.
Out of all the obnoxious wake-up notes I left for my brother, I can only remember one of them, and I really wish I still had a copy of it. After I giggled my silly ass into tears drawing it, I taped it up over the toilet so it would be the first thing his bleary eyes beheld that morning. The picture was of a group of men in military garb, all bent over, pants down, with funnels in their asses. Their eyes were all on their commander, who stood by with a raised sword, ready to send them into action. The caption read:
The Diarrhea Squad had their orders: Shit to kill.
Oh, I can offer the excuse that I was 20 years old when I created that monstrosity, but then again, that does nothing to make up for the fact that I'm still laughing about it. Because I am so sophisticated and mature. Damn, I miss that cartoon.
Maybe I should recreate it in a painting. That'll get me a gallery show.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 1:20 PM
7 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
That'll get you some kind of show. What was his reaction? He wished he'd thought of it himself, I'll bet.
Maybe I could get the Diarrhea Squad to help me make a Jackson Pollack.
I believe he said it put him in a better mood than he'd been in before seeing it. We still talk about that stupid picture.
it has a life of its own.
I have been taking your name in vain over on Mr.B's blog, but it was about Tom Waits, so I figure I'm forgiven.
Funnels, you say? In their asses . . . wow.
I'm always relieved when I crack myself up late at night, nearly have a brainy idea, and then others find my handiwork (usually writing) funny in the cold light of day. Yet there's always that time when I first wake and think, "that wasn't funny at all, it's just that I was tired..." How embarrassing. And then, yea, relief when it's still funny after sleep. Wait . . . you're not my therapist...
Definitely recreate that cartoon, Bucky—and send a copy to the Pentagon.
Nothing better than making one's siblings crack up.
Bucky. You. Are. Awesome. Really. I love your wit. LOVE IT.
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