BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

“The what?” I asked.

I wasn’t trying to be difficult, and even though my hearing is really and truly shot, I thought I’d heard him okay. Unfortunately, I couldn’t be sure because what John had just said didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

“You know,” he replied. “The rankstankle.”

“What the hell is a rankstankle?” I asked.

“You know.”

Obviously – well, to me at least – I didn’t. John, however, was absolutely certain that I knew just what a “rankstankle” happened to be. Everyone should. After all, it had been on TV.

I suppose I should back up just a second…

You see, John was a guy a worked with. In fact, this was back in the days of T & W Typewriter and Computer Repair… And just as I have explained before, NO, the T didn’t stand for Typewriter and we didn’t spell computer with a W. Those were the owner’s initials. But, I digress… My point here is that this was eons ago, back when I worked in the computer – printer repair field. This is the company where Chris worked (see Whoa! Was That A Sasquatch?). Mike too. And Bill. In fact, the owner used to call us the “bearded wonders,” because we could fix just about anything and we all had beards. Except Mike and Bill that is. But, they were the new kids on the block, relatively speaking.

Anyhow, there we were, in the shop, working on stuff and chatting about all manner of inane crap. It’s how we would pass the time while waiting for the three or four pieces of equipment we had on the bench to finish testing, or formatting, or whatever. And that’s when John mentioned the “rankstankle.”

You see, we were talking about stuff from our childhoods. Television shows, games, and all sorts of other crap. Like I said, just passing the time. The thing that really made this all surreal is that “rankstankle” wasn’t the first thing he’d said that had us all scratching our heads. It had actually started out with one of his favorite shows when he was a kid, that being, “The Sea Hag”…

We’d never heard of it. Of course, that didn’t mean much. They’d never heard of “Cousin Fred” either. He was the host of a morning kids show back home in Kentucky. I suspect nobody outside Paducah and surrounding area had any clue about “Cousin Fred.”

However, John claimed that “The Sea Hag” was one of those big time national shows on a major network. And then, he came up with “rankstankle.” It seems that the “rankstankle” was an integral part of a board game he’d played as a kid. So integral, in fact, that it was prominently mentioned during the commercial for the game.

After pondering all of this for a while, I asked, “What game was this again?”

“You know…” he said. “The one with the fat guy and the tweezers.”

“Fat guy and tweezers?” I asked. Obviously, there were all sorts of places my warped mind could take this, but since we were talking about a childrens board game I knew they wouldn’t fit.

“Yeah,” he said. “And his nose would light up.”

Pieces fell into place – figuratively, that is – and I put two and two together to come up with seventeen. “You mean, Operation?”

“Yeah, that’s it!” he replied. “You had to take out his rankstankle.”

I kept putting two and two together with the seventeen, trying to remember the commercial. Finally, after running through all 206 bones in my head, it dawned on me.

“Do you by any chance mean, wrenched ankle?” I asked.

“Oh,” John said. “I always thought it was rankstankle. Guess that’s why it was shaped like a wrench, huh?”

And, “The Sea Hag”? Well… Turns out that was “Sigmund and the Sea Monsters.”

More to come…

Murv

A few years back I was in a shoe store. Yeah, I do that sometimes. Not in the creepy, shoe fetish sort of way mind you. I actually have to go in and buy myself shoes every now and then. I could go into all sorts of details about how I wear out my shoes differently than most folks because of an old, severe injury that causes me to favor one leg – and I’d be telling the truth – but that’s not really what this blog is about.

Well… Except that I was in a shoe store because I had worn out my shoes and it was time for a new pair. That part is what it’s about… sort of.

Anywho… There I was in the shoe store and I’d picked out a pair of not so terribly expensive tennis shoes. Next to me was this bin, and in said bin were those reptile shoes. You know… Crocs. Actually, these were Crocs Knockoffs… Crockoffs, as it were… So, just for grins I dug through, found a pair in my size, tried ’em on, and since it was BOGO day at the shoe store, bought them. I figured if nothing else they’d make good shower shoes or something, given that I am booked at a lot of outdoor, weekend festivals  in state parks and such…

Well, as it turns out, I found these things to be pretty damned comfortable. So much so, in fact, that I wore them around the house, when I was taking out the trash, and even when I’d go to the store. Eventually, like all other shoes, they wore out. The straps broke, the treads wore off, etc. However, I still have them. The straps weren’t anything that couldn’t be fixed with a couple of heavy duty snap-ties. The treads – well, as long as I stay away from slick surfaces I’m all good… On that note, I forgot about that once, and ended up sprawled on a parking lot in the rain.

I haven’t forgotten since.

But, moving right along. E K – you knew E K would come into the mix at some point, right? So, anyway, the evil one was out shopping the other day and ended up in the official Crocs store. This prompted her to call me because they had a sale bin, and certainly I needed a new pair of Crocs. Obviously she was feeling magnanimous on this particular day, because she was willing to spend 10 bucks on the real deal instead of 5 bucks on the knockoffs.

After much kibbitzing, during which I explained that I should probably be present to try them on first, she bought me a pair anyway. You see, when E K has her mind made up, it’s pretty much made up, and there’s no dissuading her from her evil plan.

Unfortunately, what she brought home was more in line with something the Jolly Green Giant would wear. Given the old adage about shoe size, I can only assume this was wishful thinking on her part, if you know what I mean.

So, anyway, fast forward a week or so. Against my will, as usual, I was forced to go shopping with E K and the o-spring. Part of the grand plan was to exchange the gun boats at the Croc store for something a little more along the line of normal sized shoes. However, no matter which pair I tried on, none were just right. Either they were way too big, or just plain too small.

So, I suggested to E K that she either exchange them for something she wanted, or simply return them.

Did you know that Crocs Store employees apparently work on commission?

I didn’t then, but I do now.

Yeah. I have a new pair of Crocs. They don’t fit me worth a damn, but the fifteen-year-old behind the counter guaranteed me that within 3 days they’d be just fine, because they are, after all, Crocs.

I wonder if I could just cut the soles off and glue them to the knockoffs?

More to come…

Murv