....(wasn't) so good to me.
Hadda fairly rough day yesterday. It began with me puttin' out all kinda fires at work (gettin' them stragglin'-in-at-the-last-minute quarterly payrolls out to our clients is a real bitch) and it ended up with The Bowels of Hell Firemen puttin 'out a rip-roarin' blaze of a car fire right in front of my front door....but I'll get back to that in a minute.
Yep, never a dull moment around HERE!
In between all that excitement, my knuckleheaded son 'n his friend (who ain't gotta bit o' brain between the two of 'em I might add) called me cuz he was stranded in a city that's a good half hour away from here. He used up all the money I had left him on what else but food and had lost his Metrocard to grab the bus home. So there they were, two 17 year old idiots, tryin' to figure out a way they could get home. Walkin' it was definitely outta the question, bussin' it wasn't gonna happen, and the jerks didn't even think about hoppin' on the nearest train 'n havin' their fares billed to the house (IF conductors even do that anymore). I was livid with the kid to begin with cuz by the time I got home from work he was long gone but I saw that he hadn't done a damn thing before he left the house. So when he called me with his sob story I told him "tough shit....get yer ass home 'n get it home NOW!" He did.....but not before callin' his sister to come rescue him. He's sooooooo lucky she likes him. Sometimes.
By the time she brought his ass back to me I had worked myself up into a frenzy. It was hours later, he had eaten up all the food here at home, he had spent all his money on even MORE food while out, and he had left this place in shambles. The garbage was not taken out, the recycles were still in their bin, cups 'n glasses were all over the damn house, dirty plates were on tables, empty pizza boxes were on the stovetop......you know, the usual teenage boy shit. So when I heard him boundin' up the inside steps yellin' my name like a madman (Ma! Mom! MOMMMMMMMM!!!!!!) I told him to shut the hell up 'n to get inside. When he ran in huffin' 'n puffin' I saw that his face was colorless. He was whiter than the white boy that he IS. I opened up my mouth to immediately start yellin' at him for bein' so damn stupid but he quickly belted out "MOM! There's a truck on fire outside! Whadda I DO?" I told him to cut the shit 'n to stop tryin' to switch the subject cuz his ass was in BIG trouble. His friend jumped in 'n said "no, serious Ms. R. There's a black truck on fire in front of the house!" I still didn't believe either one of 'em.....cuz they pull this kinda shit on me ALL THE DAMN TIME.
Ohhhhhh, the stories I could tell ya.
Since they wouldn't let up with this cockamamie story I figured I'd better take a peek out my bedroom window anyway. Sure as shit, there it was. A beautiful new black 4 x in front of my house had bright orange flames shootin' up outta the dashboard 'n thick black smoke pourin' out from under the hood. I screamed at the boys "what's WRONG with you two? Why didn't either one of ya call 911?" They said they just didn't know WHAT to do.
I told ya they didn't have a brain between the two of 'em.
So I grabbed my cell 'n I called 911. The firetrucks came a-wailin' down the street a few minutes later, smashed out all the windows on the truck and hosed that sucker down but good. I wish I had the wherewithall to grab my cell again 'n snap some pics of that fiasco, cuz that woulda been a great addition to this blog post. I think I was just so damn dumbfounded at the fact that my son was really tellin' me an honest-to-goodness true story at the time 'n I just didn't believe him (the boy who cried wolf, anyone?....and dontcha know that I kept TELLIN' my son this day would come?).
Thankfully it was all over in a matter of a half hour tops....but nobody knew who's truck this was. I recognized it allright but I had no clue as to who the guy was and/or where he lived/worked in the area. But as luck would have it (which is certainly debatable at this point in the story), just when the last fireman was gettin' ready to leave the scene, up walked the owner of the truck.....dazed 'n confused 'n pacin' back 'n forth like a lost kid. I really felt sorry for the guy. But hey, better him than me, thats for damn sure.
And so went the not-so-happy endin' to a not-so-good Monday for me after all....but especially not for the owner of that now beautifully-burnt-to-a-crisp truck.
DAMN, I really shoulda brought out some marshmallows. THAT always seems to brighten up someones day!