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

Part 1 of 2…

You really never know exactly what an evil redhead like E K is going to do to you. Sure, there are all the normal, everyday tortures she has in her bag of tricks. The evil, sadistic stuff that wicked redheads do that would make even Dick Cheney cringe. I’ve already told you about those.

I’m talking about the far more intense EHTT’s (Enhanced Husband Torture Techniques). You see, E K is among that elite group of hypersadistic not-of-this-earth redheads who come up with ways to grind their stiletto heel into the back of your head without even being within 20 miles of you.  Pretty scary stuff this “Remote Torture”, and The Evil Redheads of the world have perfected it.

I’ll let you in on a little secret – I’m pretty sure E K is their leader. She disappears for a couple of hours every week and whenever I ask about it she just gives me one of those really evil grins and says she was at a “meeting”, then tells me to make sure I have chocolate fondue or finger sandwiches ready for her to take with her to “the meeting” the following week. Unless I am missing my guess here, these “meetings” are where the redheads get together and devise new and frightening things to do to poor husbands like me. This includes not returning my Tupperware and/or fondue forks, but that’s another blog.

Anyhow, regarding these new and sadistic tortures, let me give you an example – Take for instance a couple of Christmases ago… (nice segue, eh?)

You see, E K is a “sock lady”. This is almost exactly like a “shoe lady” (she’s one of those too), but it involves socks instead of shoes. Also, be aware that “sock ladies” should not be confused with “sock puppets”. They are something entirely different. Sock ladies can, however, have puppets, especially if they are evil redheaded sock ladies. But, usually they just call us lackeys, slaves, or “hey you”. For some reason they eschew the use of the word puppet. It probably has something to do with “sock monkeys” and corporal punishment, but we won’t go there.

Yeah, I’m  digressing… so what’s new about that?

Okay… Back to the situation at hand – or, at foot as the case may be…

As I was saying, E K is a “sock lady”.  Back in her early twenties – which isn’t all that long ago since, as we all know, she just turned 25 (wink wink, nudge nudge) – her majesty wore skirts, stockings, and heels to work. Yeah… Even as a service technician out in the field she could be found lithely prancing about on high-heels while beating a printer into rightful submission, and looking damn good doing it. (Not that she doesn’t look damn good doing now too, mind you.)

However, for the past several years she has reserved her “fancy shoes” for “fancy occasions”… These days when going all dominatrix with a screwdriver on a printer or plotter she is far more likely to be found in slacks and a stylish pair of black or brown leather, flat-soled Mary Janes.

This is where the socks come in.

You see, she is not about to sacrifice her quirky individuality for anything. Therefore, she has an entire room full of socks.  And when I say socks, I don’t just mean your average, run of the mill, 6 in a package from K-mart type of socks. Nope. Not E K. She has knee socks, over the knee socks, mid-calf socks, ankle socks, lacy socks, sheer socks, polka-dotted socks, striped socks, solid color socks, argyle, oddly patterned, holiday, whimsical, thin, thick, fuzzy, wool, cotton, synthetic, electric, nuclear, hybrid… wheeeezzzzzzz… wheeeezzzzzzz…

(Pant… Pant… Pant… Hold on a sec while I catch my breath, okay?)

wheeeezzzzzzz… wheeeezzzzzzz…

(Whew… Better now… I think…)

So, anyway, you get the point. The woman has socks galore, and is always all about obtaining more socks galore.

She will buy them in a box. She will wear them with an ox.

She will wear them on her feet. She thinks socks are really sweet!

She will get them from the store. She will get them more, more, more!

And, that’s just the beginning.

But, much like the folks who collect those little “baby spoons” from National Parks, she doesn’t want just any socks. They have to be socks she doesn’t already have in her collection. Socks that speak to her. Showcase her individuality and wicked stylishness.

Which brings us back around to Christmas a couple of years ago.

Here’s the thing… E K and I have been together for a long time. When you have been together as long as we have, no matter how much you are “in love of one another” you tend to start scaling back in the Christmas gift department. Instead of going out and mortgaging the house for the Faith or Charity Diamond (I mean, who would want the Hope Diamond. It’s cursed!) You tend to go for gifts that are slightly less pricey and sometimes even a bit more practical. Especially when you are married to a Taurus. They are all about practical. So, on to the socks… You see, those couple of years back I asked The Evil One if there was anything special she wanted to find under the Yule tree. Without missing a beat she replied, “Cool Socks.”

Okay. Cool socks. Easy like pie. This, even I can do without screwing up too badly.

I should have paid more attention to the way the corners of her mouth curled up into a fleeting grin, because little did I know she had just set her wicked, wicked plan into motion.

More to come…

Murv

To Be Continued In:  Murv The Purv…