Good morning…it’s Thursday, August 26. Today is National Burger Day. So, go out and buy a local burger. Eat and shut up already! There will almost certainly be no wood pulp filled burgers for me today. Woodward Hospital (or whatever they’re calling themselves this week) is kicking Cousin Fred to the curb – well, actually they’re rolling him out to the curb in a wheelchair. His insurance says they won’t pay for another night of care so the hospital is showing him the door. I was concerned about him coming home so soon after his fall. The dude has a body cast covering his body from just above the waist to his neck. His right arm is in plaster too and cocked at a weird angle to the rest of his body. The only arm he has free is his left arm – thankfully – it means he’ll be able to take care of his own bathroom business (familial stuff only goes so far). The bad news for me is that I’m not sure he can even get through the door of Hellkat One’s travel trailer with his plaster-encased right arm sticking out like that. That of course means that he’ll be up in the main house. The problem with that is that The Wife will be returning from her latest fabulous vacation tomorrow. She won’t be happy to find Cousin Fred in the main house. But, what can I do, he’s family. I guess I have to take care of him. Cousin Fred, on the other hand, is positively giddy. And no, it’s not because the synthetic opioids are taking effect. I sent the video of Cousin Fred’s crash and burn from the side of that derelict monstrosity grain elevator that casts an ominous shadow over Mazzio’s to Francesca. Interestingly, that got her attention. She’s on her way to The Compound as we speak to look after Cousin Freddy (as she calls him). Of course, she asked me if he was able to take care of his toilet business with the body cast before announcing that she would come here. Great…just great. Now we have Francesca, whom I know nothing about en route The Compound. I keep thinking that I should wave The Wife off. Tell her to just stay on vacation. Eh well, we’ll deal with it all tomorrow I guess. Local lawyers have been hounding me, wanting to represent Cousin Fred in a lawsuit against Cosmic City for leaving such a dangerously decrepit structure up in full view of the public. They all ask the same thing. They want to know if Cousin Fred is irretrievably brain damaged from youth or merely stupid. Either way, the lawyers swear they can make a case. With the video of Cousin Fred’s fall going viral on YouTube, people from all over the world who are fans of this blog (hey, it’s more than a handful – particularly the people in Israel who steal bits of this to post elsewhere) have been sending me emails of support and sympathy. Mostly sympathy for being saddled with Cousin Fred. One savvy reader in Pittsburgh sent me links to the local TV news there with a story about another dumbass who tried to impress his girlfriend and failed…miserably. It seems this guy took his girlfriend up on the roof of a local restaurant, presumably to look at the stars (less light on the roof) and commence a personal body search of the girlfriend (have to check for weapons). At some point in the proceedings, he told the girlfriend that he would jump from the roof they were on to the roof of the business next door. The girlfriend begged our macho Batman wannabe not to do it (as she’s pulling her clothes back into place). So, our insipid boy wonder gets a running start and misses, falling in between the businesses where he got stuck. Hang with me a second…I know, I know…I was thinking the exact same thing. Firefighters and police show up (the poor guy never has any fun) and they can’t figure out what to do for our action-movie-extra-reject-lothario. The firefighters decide (it was a slow night) to bust open the wall immediately behind our leaping-Don-Juan and just pull him into the building. They start banging away at the wall with sledgehammers, but guess what? The wall is cinderblock filled with concrete and rebar…it’s going nowhere. The inside of the restaurant is a mess though. Finally, they lower a skinny firefighter on a rope down between the buildings to free El Stupido Supremo. Like Cousin Fred, when they got Fred Jr. to the hospital, the police covered him in citations for trespassing, blah, blah, blah. Now the owner of the restaurant is suing to have his wall repaired. Oh, and junior has a broken ankle. All of that because he wanted to impress his girlfriend. Wonder how it worked out for him? Oh, WAIT, for those of you who are still scratching your head because this story doesn’t make much sense. Here’s the money shot (as it were)…it seems that the two buildings were only 16 inches apart. So…Dumbass tried to leap a 16 inch gap and fell in! WTF?! One of my steps is more than 16 inches. Couldn’t he just walk across the gap? Mind the gap! (Brit humor). My recommendation to the girlfriend is to run. Run to California if you must, but get away from this idiot…change your name…get new ID…have your face rearranged by one of those Hollywood plastic surgeons. That is all. Comments are closed.
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