Saturday, November 1, 2008
He's Troubled ... But I Can Save Him. Part IV : Happy Halloween
As improbable as it seems ... Slappy, Stinky and I were hired to babysit two children one Halloween about 14 years ago.
"Well, this seems improbable," I said to no one in particular. "Very improbable indeed."
"No more improbable than when the wealthy dowager hired us to fix her plumbing" replied Slappy.
"I do regret how that turned into a giant food fight." said Stinky. "There was pie all over the place when we left. Did we ever get paid for that gig?"
"Quiet, you chuckleheads," I barked. "There'll be no food fights tonight. We'll just make sure these two kids aren't horribly mutilated until their parents get home and then we're free and clear with fifteen Canadian dollars and two popsicles each from the freezer."
Things went pretty easily at first. To amuse ourselves we mocked the children -- whose names, ages and genders escape me -- about their appearance, grades and prospects in life. After Blue Velvet was over, we sent them to bed with a bag of baby carrots and a mimosa.
"This is when we make the easy money," said Slappy, pulling a bottle of Scotch from his duffle bag and putting his feet on the coffee table.
"Amen, brother," said Stinky and I. We drank heavily for thirty minutes before the first phone call.
Riiiiiiing ... Riiiiing ...
"Have you checked the children? He He He He," asked the distorted voice on the telephone.
"No," I replied and put the phone back on it's cradle.
"Who was that," asked Slappy?
"Child welfare, I think."
"Cheers," yelled Stinky.
The drinking of Scotch inevitably turned into the drinking of Brandy. Twenty-five minutes passed while we watched Rocky and Bullwinkle on The Cartoon Network.
Riiiiiiing ... Riiiiiing ...
"Have you checked the children now," asked the distorted, yet somehow impatient, voice on the telephone?
"Not yet," I admitted. "I'm kinda watching something right now. Can I call you back?"
The man on the phone sighed. "Will you check the children eventually?"
"Yeah, yeah ... I'll get to it ... who are you ... my mother? Christ!" I slammed the phone down.
Stinky asked, "Who was that?"
"Escaped mental patient who used to live here," I replied.
"Cheers," yelled Slappy.
We ran out of Brandy and moved onto Peppermint Schnapps and old episodes of The Twilight Zone.
Riiiiiing ... Riiiiiing ...
"What about now? Have you checked the children? You really should check the children. Really, You are not very good babysitters" said the distorted, impatient and somewhat condescending voice on the phone.
"Do they need another mimosa," I asked? "We have some Peppermint Schnapps if they can't sleep."
"This just isn't worth it anymore," replied the distorted, impatient and condescending voice. I think he was on the verge of tears.
"Who was that," asked Stinky and Slappy in unison?
"Don't know," I replied. "But I suspect he was wearing an old-timey hockey mask."
"Now you're mixing you're horror movie metaphors," said Slappy.
Stinky just shook his head. "Sad ... just sad."
We moved on to Everclear and tasteful lines of cocaine. The rest of the night was fairly uneventful until the parents got home and they found ...
... their kids safe and sound but a strongly worded note in the kitchen ...
Really? You let these wankers look after your children?
These idiots couldn't look after a gold fish. The only reason I didn't unmercifully slaughter your children is because greater horrors will await them if these three ... dare I say stooges ... babysit them again.
Yours in Christ,
Stereotypical Homicidal Maniac"
We didn't get our fifteen Canadian dollars that night but I made sure I stuffed as many popsicles down my pants as I could before we fled into the night.
But that's another story.
at 12:26 AM