Humor Fiction posted October 28, 2014


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Short Story-World's Greatest Babysitter

Truthful Jones, Greatest Babysitter

by michaelcahill






















 
"Of course when it comes to sittin', I got a lifetime experience. Why when I was a baby I sat all the time. They had to make a special chair for me. Old Sammy Sears and Billy Roebuck got together and worked it out between em. Twas a fine piece a furniture. Had an eatin' table built right into it too."
 
"Well, we mean taking care of children, Mr. Jones, experience taking care of children, you know the offspring of people." Canada Yukon wanted to get to bingo in the worst way. But, she had to make sure that her kids had a marginal chance of being safe.
 
"Oh, offspring. I catch your drift there, Mrs. Yukon. Yes'm, I gots me quite a bit of experience sittin' in that meaning of the vernacular. You might say that I once had the most difficult baby-sittin experience that anyone in the history of mankind has ever had. You've heard of the Unoriginal Snowman I assume?"
 
"You mean the abominable snowman?" Canada suppressed a little chuckle. Truthful seemed on the verge of telling a tale. She wouldn't want to do anything to discourage it. Truthful telling a tale topped an hour of bingo and that put it ahead of an hour of anything with Mister Yukon.
 
"Of course, a little wit to set the mood and perhaps ply a wee libation from your cupboard." Truthful smiled with more teeth than not.
 
"Why of course. I knew that, I was just playin' along." She wanted to save face and Truthful allowed it. Being a gentleman loomed high on his list.
 
"Ah, LaFeatte 67, fruity with an insultin bite of stinkweed, yet a fine after taste of young radish." Truthful smiled as he took a sip of the wine she offered. It came from a box in the kitchen with a spigot. It had the word, WINE, inscribed on the side to remove any doubt. The red or white of it was left to surprise.
 
"Now, the true Eskimos lived right on the North Pole. I mean they could run a laundry line off'n it. Twern't none of the touristy types with those Sears and Roebuck, good friends of mine, parkas with furred hoods. Now, one of these Big Feet, that's what I'll call em for the sake of the story, had been somehow separated from his parents and done been raised by polar bears."
 
Khrushchev, Canada's husband, who had joined them, shouted out, "What the hell? That's pretty hard to believe! For God's sake man, you expect me to believe that? There wasn't one big foot twas foot enough to step up and claim the child when his mammy and pappy met with their demise. Why, that's inhuman is what it is."
 
"Now, hold on a minute there, Khrushchev, we don't know what happened. Y'all is a jumpin' to conclusions now. I don't know nuthin' 'bout anyone even bein' round to step up. Maybe they got et. In any case, this boy got raised by these bears see? Well, his bear family got stuck on an ice floe with a few cases of Budweiser and floated out to sea leavin' him alone. They've shown the footage of the rescue on T.V.; you might have seen it."
 
"That was real? Don't I feel like a skunk at possum orgy? I thought that was a testimonial for Budweiser beer the way them bears was enjoyin' it and all." Khrushchev had a look of wonder attempt to find a home on his face.
 
"Yep. Now these Eskimos have their laws that state if they see a boy raised by polar bears a wanderin' by hisself and there ain't no mommy and daddy polar bears around then they's a supposed to take him in and care for him, see? Now, his folks had decided to go on a walkabout. That's where folks go walkin' around to figure out what the hell things is all about, see?"
 
"I thought that they did that in Australia, ya know, like alligator Dongee…." Canada swelled up a bit prideful.
 
"Well, yer partially right there, Canada. But, that particular predilection came to be from the journey of the great Australian explorer, Thor Hyperdoll. He took a pack of dingos on a raft and set sail for the North Pole across the great sea. When he hit the ice, he hitched them dingos up to the raft that had runners on it and they pulled it like a sled all the way there. Of course, he found out about the walkabout there and took it back to Australia where they still practice it today."
 
"Those Aussies are sumpin'. I love them kangaroos with their boxin' an all." Khrushchev stood up and hopped around shadow boxing.
 
"Well, that goes way back to my Grandpa Joey, but that's another story. Now, I happened to be at the North Pole as it was Christmas time and all and, no, I can't get into that, as you well know. In any case, they asked me if I might take care of their boy, Footlong. I'll never know why they shortchanged him on the name like that. His feets was nearly double that if'n they was an inch. Well, long story short, I agreed."
 
"So, you took care of the big foot boy while they were on walkabout?" Canada had forgotten about bingo.
 
"Yep. But that's where the story begins. Takin care of a teenage bigfoot boy twern't no problem for Truthful Jones. It was when Vince McMahon, the wrestling promoter, showed up that the trouble started. He had gotten wind of a giant hairy beast livin' at the north pole and had designs on him becomin' a champeen wrassler. It's all real, ya know. They have to claim it's fake so it don't get banned for its violence and mayhem."
 
"HEEEE. HOOOO! I knew it! I knew it was real. Here they've all been callin' me a dummy for believin' it. Ha! He who laughs first laughs last and laughs … somethin'." Khrushchev was quite pleased.
 
"Now, Vince was a shrewd business man. Ya don't get to be a multiple trillionaire cause you're a dummy. He brought sled after sled of superstars with him to try to entice Footlong to join his outfit.
 
-to be continued-
 




 


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