12.08.05

Category: dribblings

do you ever have those days where you know that God is messing with you? where you know that he’s put you in a situation so he can laugh his mighty ass off? hm?
oh, it’s just me?

so i’m painting on the 8th floor of the holy house today. and dad gets paged and has to leave. then this old lady comes out of her room and she’s knocking on someone else’s door, but the other person isn’t home. so i peek around the corner and i see this old lady and she’s in her silk PJs. so i say, in my cheerful help voice, “hi! do you need some help?”
and the lady, she stands in front of me and nods her head. she says nothing.
“um, well. would you like me to help you?”
she nods again.
i would get the deaf mute.
so we get to her door and she says, “i need you to fasten something for me.”
she can speak! she’s healed! praise!
well, she was still deaf.

anyway, i get in her room and her boyfriend is in there. he is one of the few people at that place that i do not like. he’s a mean ol’ alkie. well, he’s sitting in there in his undershirt and he’s holding a necklace around his neck. see, it’s his neckalce that needs fastening.

so at first i’m thinking, oh for the love, did they just have sex? God, this is not cool. viagra is the devil i just know it.

but see, there’s something else about the guy i haven’t mentioned. he’s a darth vader. he’s got one of those electric voice boxes that he has to hold to his throat. he’s deaf as a post, and he has “singing” hearing aids. (you should hear them talk. she can’t hear a single robotic word he says, and he couldn’t hear a plane crash if it happened right next to him.) when he walks he takes very small steps and he wears those cheesey ankle boots. so it sounds like 19 people just got off the elevator and are coming around the corner.

oh, and one word: tracheostomy.

right, so it’s his necklace, remember? and he’s holding it out so i can clasp it…in the front. not on the back of his neck, but in THE FRONT. you know, THE FRONT? IT’S RIGHT NEXT TO HIS GAPING NECK HOLE. i try to be nonchalant about the sitch as i approach the guy, i mean, i don’t want to be rude or anything. so it’s like, be cool jaimie, be cool. just latch it and go. you can freak out later. so i say, all smiley, “so you need some help fastening your neckhole, huh? necklace!”

as i fiddled with the clasp i was all, don’t look at the neckhole. don’t look at the neckhole. don’t look at th- IT’S CRUSTY! A CRUSTY, SCABBY NECKHOLE! I’M JUST A HOUSE PAINTER! HOW DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN TO ME?! and i was thinking about how jealous chris wood would be. and i was also thinking maybe he needed to put a salve on it, so it wouldn’t look so crusty.

i clasped it and was considered a hero for doing so, and as i left i said, “have a good stoma. day! have a good day.”
what a day. for the rest of the day when dad would complain about something i would whisper, “stoma!” loudly.

i hope i didn’t offend anyone with a neckhole. i know that they are very cool things that help you breathe better. i’ve just never had to er, look right at one or have my fingers so close to one. i’m thinking it’s something you just have to get used to seeing. but now i have questions. mostly, do you have to cap it off when you drink something?

NECKHOLE.

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