Grandchild and jack-of-all-gay Rick came over the other morning with the meds I get to take for my gland. I’ve never been one to take the drugs. Once you’ve tasted God in a Korean hash house the Mormon pleasure of a Tylenol just doesn’t cut it. But when it comes to peeing, I suppose I’ll make an exception .
Oh Percy, how you’ve been humbled by your Prostate!
Rick felt bad about my condition. Not so bad that he’d finally learn to throw a goddam baseball without emitting gay radiation like some sort of gay microwave, but bad enough that he bought his ol’ granpa Percy a Macaw. General Douglas MacArthur, as I named him, came in a fancy brass cage complete with a New York Times newspaper lining the bottom. Just how I like my New York Times!
What a grandson!
General Douglas MacArthur, with his bright blue and yellow coat of feathers, is an altered beast of a gift. I think that’s some sort of electrified wolf; I’m not sure myself, but that’s how Rick described it and I kind of like how it sounds. Altered beast. Hmm.
Considering some of the gifts I’ve received from my kids, which included…
- ceramic skull ashtray
- ceramic plumber (with ass-crack ashtray)
- ceramic Korean (not an ashtray)
- rare Precious Moments figurine of Charles Bronson inscribed with the words, “I love you this much!”
- lottery ticket
… I’d say General Douglas MacArthur was the greatest gift I’ve ever received.
But, as they say, there’s always a catch. Much like the greatest military commander of our time, General Douglas MacArthur is loud as a banshee! I try to watch my stories on the television and every time one of those infernal car alarm commercials comes on, General Douglas MacArthur is squawking and I gingerly walk to the window to make sure no one has stolen the hood ornament off my friend Geri’s Cadillac Seville. The first few times I thought it was pretty amazing General Douglas MacArthur could sound so much like the car alarm Geri installed on his Cadillac, but now I’m starting to get pretty jazzed about it! General Douglas MacArthur is even starting to mimic some of the singers on Grand Ole Opry, Tuesday nights at 7 p.m. on PBS.
So now I have a swollen prostate and a macaw General Douglas MacArthur. If you were an alien from the future and you told me I’d have trouble pissing and would develop a creeping paranoia about auto theft I would have told you your full of space shit!
