What’s all this photo sharing guff? All these camera and printer bundles which specifically highlight the share-ability factor. Now you can press a button and inflict blurry images of whatever shiny thing caught your eye last on people around the world. “Hey look, Dad sent another picture of the new gutters. Sure does like them gutters.” It’s eye-spam. It’s worse than someone telling you about a dream. But this isn’t about that, this is a story about Kenny.
Before they were married, Kenny and his Missus would often travel to visit her parents, a small German man with an almost too cheerful wife. Gloria was great, I helped them move once and had to return the rental truck back to Vancouver 4 hours away and she made me sandwiches and cookies and cake for the trip. Whenever Kenny and his wife visited they were housed in the spare bedroom, across from the parents room at the end of the hall in a nice suburban home with tidy lawns, a green garden shed and nary a pink flamingo.
Now, after they were married they lived with the parents for a little while and by then there was a baby so the parents moved into the spare room and gave Kenny and Co. the larger room. Early on in the caper Kenny’s brother came to visit and they drank many beers together and sang songs and talked in the strange pseudo-accent his brothers had developed among themselves. I have spent many such nights with them where we laughed and attained levels of intoxication exceeding government warnings, and I can attest to the quality of the experience.
About 5am the next morning Gloria rolled out of bed, chipper as a German’s housewife, to make fresh muffins for breakfast. Shortly after that Kenny rolled himself down the hall to the bathroom where he said farewell to the last two beers from the night before, which had ended only 3 hours earlier, and fumbled his way back to the room. He crawled back under the covers, pulled them over his head, curled up to the Missus and went back to sleep.
Before they were married, Kenny and his Missus would often travel to visit her parents, a small German man with an almost too cheerful wife. Gloria was great, I helped them move once and had to return the rental truck back to Vancouver 4 hours away and she made me sandwiches and cookies and cake for the trip. Whenever Kenny and his wife visited they were housed in the spare bedroom, across from the parents room at the end of the hall in a nice suburban home with tidy lawns, a green garden shed and nary a pink flamingo.
Now, after they were married they lived with the parents for a little while and by then there was a baby so the parents moved into the spare room and gave Kenny and Co. the larger room. Early on in the caper Kenny’s brother came to visit and they drank many beers together and sang songs and talked in the strange pseudo-accent his brothers had developed among themselves. I have spent many such nights with them where we laughed and attained levels of intoxication exceeding government warnings, and I can attest to the quality of the experience.
About 5am the next morning Gloria rolled out of bed, chipper as a German’s housewife, to make fresh muffins for breakfast. Shortly after that Kenny rolled himself down the hall to the bathroom where he said farewell to the last two beers from the night before, which had ended only 3 hours earlier, and fumbled his way back to the room. He crawled back under the covers, pulled them over his head, curled up to the Missus and went back to sleep.
At half past six Gloria brought her husband a tray of fresh muffins, orange juice and coffee as well as toast just in case he didn’t feel like a muffin. She put the tray down, walked over and opened the drapes and window. Morning sunlight filled the room, bringing with it the soft scent of dewy grass and roses and it was only then that she noticed her husband and son-in-law together in the bed sleeping peacfully in the 'spoon' position. Kenny's autopilot had not yet re-calibrated to the new room. It should also be noted at this point that Kenny prefers to sleep nude and as it turns out, so do Germans. Gloria thought it prudent then to simply leave the tray and make her exit. How the two gentlemen came to separate in an honourable way and without loss of face is unclear, but the incident was never mentioned again.
Kenny has a flair for getting away with stuff like that. All I know is if it had been me there would have been nine types of trouble. But then again I didn’t know the German that well.
7 comments:
Had that been MY husband that I caught spooning with a naked German relative, you would have pictures of it on my blog IMMEDIATELY.
And with that statement, no man is ever going to want to marry me, is he?
that brings back memories..."drunk last night and i was drunk the before"...song in there somewhere
ahhhhh Kenny ...wonder what he's been up to
My old roommate (who shall go un-named) has incredibly long and luxurious dirty blond hair (waist length). He is also 5'3" and small of frame. To make up for this he has a Barry Gibb beard, and a Barry White voice.
After one particulary boozy party at the apartment said roomie stumbled to his bed and passed out under the covers. A little while later, the town lothario was (for some unknown and retrospectively horribly sinister reason) poking his head around bedroom doors to see who was within. Upon checking my roommate's door, he espied a petite blonde fast asleep and reeking of Screech Newfoundland rum. Being a complete pervert/borderine rapist, said lothario slipped out of his trews and into the bed and began stroking the petite one's hair. At which point he was confronted by the hairy faced man with the basso profundo voice to whose hair the head was attached.
The yelling woke the whole house, and gave many of us a visceral idea of what prison must be like.
exxy- technically Gloria was the German's wife. Ken's wife was in her correct bed at the time - but we get the point
Illidge-
(sung to the tune of Lakeside Park by Rush)
...drunk last night/
and drunk the night before/
gonna get drunk/
like I've never been drunk before.
(Chorus) Cause when I am drunk/
I'm as happy as can be/
Cause I am a member/
Of the drunk family.
Weasle- are you syre that wasn't an episode of the Young Ones?
that's the 1
i sing it often
wife says to often
but why stop a good thing
we need to get together and sing it loud and proud
maybe on the window sill of a highrise apartment building or somethng like that
the drunk family
is the best family
thats ever come over from ol' germany
"are you syre that wasn't an episode of the Young Ones"
I dunno; it was always on before my bedtime. From the few I have seen, it might be more Young Ones-y if Alexi Sayle had appeared and demanded payment for the aborted sex act.
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