| Humor Fiction posted October 31, 2014 |
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Short story in two parts.
Truthful Jones, Babysitter: Part Two
by michaelcahill
-Part one is still available on page one and highly promoted-
Previously, Canada Yukon wanted to go to bingo and sought a baby sitter. She began to interview Truthful Jones for the job and got caught up in one of his stories explaining his baby sitting experiences. We carry on with the story now as Vince McMahon of World Wrestling Entertainment has shown up to recruit, Footlong, a big foot that Truthful was babysitting for a Eskimo couple that had gone on walkabout.
Vince took one look at Footlong and growled. "Hairball! Look what the cat coughed up, Triple H. Haaaaaaaiiirrrrrirbaaaaaall, he's gonna tear the Undertaker limb from limb!" Vince McMahon wasted no time on introductions. He went right into announcers mode as though a match were about to get under way.
I wasn't sure I cared for the name "Hairball" though I saw the thought process by which he came by it. "I'm Truthful Jones, Mr. McMahon. I'm a big fan of your outfit." I thought it best to be polite considering Footlong might secure gainful employment with his firm and all.
"Truthful Jones. I like that; it has a nice ring to it. You could lie like a dog with a white spotlight on you as though you were an angel. Truuuuuthful Jones, the most honest man in the world. The crowd would eat it up. You could be Hairballs manager." Vince seemed to be always thinking. I liked that in a man.
"We'll" I sez, "I guess that is all open for discussion. I don't know if we have the room to accommodate all these fellas you done brought along with you…." I looked up before I completed my sentence as four Blackhawk helicopters landed near the property. The superstars began constructing a large tent and a wrasslin' ring right there on the ice. It looked as though it weren't the first time.
"But I'm the giant. That's my whole identity. THE WORLD'S LARGEST ATHLETE! Ya, know? It doesn't sound as good as the world's second largest athlete. What am I supposed to do? Look at all the hair on him. I can't grow hair like that. I ain't goin' for implants either. I've always been for keepin' it real." The Big Show, his wrasslin' name, was in tears.
"Now, there's no use a puttin' the horse in front a the apple pie." I told him. "There ain't no deal in place. I ain't even asked Footlong if'n he's interested in wrasslin' as a career move. Besides, there's only one Big Show and that's you." I swear these wrasslers are like children. You got to handle them with kitten's gloves.
Just about then, Don King shows up with Mike Tyson. It shocked the daylights out of me. I thought Don King was dead you know. I guess I had him mixed up with Don Ho, though I don't think I ever saw Don King play an instrument. In any case, Tyson was broke and lookin' to do a series of exhibition matches on various islands around the world. So King had a date set for Trinidad and Tobago, he never did say which, in a months' time. Now, Tonya Harding had pulled out of the match claiming it was undignified, so Don was in a bit of a pickle.
"Only in America! This is one edification of icified freezatorius splendor. The didactic versisitude of my visionary sightedness has once again dealt cards to the sighted unseen by mankind."
"Yep, it's got some nice scenery if'n ya all likes white." I tried to go along with his chicanery. I could see he was anglin' for a deal.
"Gigantisaurus Podiatrificus. The rarified air of borealis centrificus beckons the clear blue oasis of the seven seas. Mr. Tyson, if you please." King's hair drifted towards Tyson, prompting him to speak.
"Mr. Foot, it would be ludicrous of me to expectorate you to remember the terror of my making Calhoun Smolvers my pet. That was eons ago. I would like to rejuvenate a certain portion of that prestidigitation at your expense, if you are of a predilectory manor." We had almost made it out of the maze on his head when we realized he had stopped squeaking.
"Ah, yes. Ludicrous, indeed. That is something we can discuss, predilectorily speaking and such." I was at a loss for words. That puzzle on his head was fascinating and I hadn't heard a word he said.
Khrushchev raised his hand like he was in school. "Weren't ya scared? Mike Tyson killed twenty people in the ring. They had a plastic surgeon ringside at all of his matches. He was the most fearsome, ferocious, feral, fumigating, fungal, funnel, farmhouse…."
"I gets the picture, my friend. Apparently, I never told you about the Thrilla With Godzilla that I fought in Japan. Well, I guess not, I was sworn to secrecy and all … in any case, no, I twern't a feared of Mike Tyson. Now let me get back to my story. Now, Footlong had a shy streak when it came to strangers and he'd let out this kind of low pitched wailin' sound and hide behind the house when strangers was around. Well, it scared the bejeebers out a Tyson."
Tyson says, "That's scarin' the bejeebers out a me. What excretory emancipation is that?"
I says, "Oh, that's jest Footlong, he's a mite shy 'round strangers is all"
Tyson gets all riled up 'bout that. "I knew it. It's the tattoo. Everyone thinks it's strange. I don't get it. What am I suppository to do? Cut me own skull off my craniotomy? No one understands me."
Well, I tells him, "Now, Mr. Tyson, taint nothin like that. He's like that with all strangers. Gots nothin' to do with that crazy mess on yer noggin'."
"Oh, well if you're sure then. I just get sentimental about exorcising it. I'm misunderstaken all the time." He was finally makin' some sense.
About this time, the Budweiser Bears came ridin' up in a white limousine pulled by a team of albino huskies. That's why we didn't see them comin'. They was drunk if'n ya ask me. But, I wasn't 'bout to tell no polar bears nuthin' bout their drinkin' habits, specially when theys a pullin' sleds full a free brewskys.
Well, I don't need to tell you that a brawl broke out. Them damn wrasslers are rowdy. The bears are born wrasslers. I'll give the Big Show credit though, he lasted the longest. But, the bears pinned them all in the center of the ring, one, two, three. Footlong was so happy to see them he was howlin' like a … well howlin' like somethin', I couldn't quite figure out what it reminded me of.
Bigfoot gives me a big hug and jumps in the limo with the bears. Off they go and that's the last I ever saw of him. Reunited with his family. All legal, of course.
With Footlong gone all the attention turned to me. Well, I ain't one for the spotlight. Them wrasslers is so sensitive. It would have broke their hearts to have a man my size a whoopin' their butts on a nightly basis. I figured the charitable thing to do was turn the whole deal down.
Somehow, Don King convinced Tyson to take a swing at me, ya know to entice me to do the Trinidad and Tobago show. Well, I tried to hold back, but instinct took over. He came to about twenty minutes later and told me that I hit him with the most ludicrous punch he'd ever been hit with.
Another twenty minutes went by and I was all alone. Took twenty-three days for mom and dad to get home from their walkabout. They were sad about Footlong, but glad they wouldn't have to change his diapers no more.
"So, that's the answer to your question, Mrs. Yukon. Yep, I've had baby sittin' experience."
"Well, it's too late for bingo now. Some more wine?" Canada smiled. "Maybe you could tell us another story."
"Yeah. There's a few ya ain't heard I spect. Did I tell you the real story behind the first man on the moon?"
-Part one is still available on page one and highly promoted-
Previously, Canada Yukon wanted to go to bingo and sought a baby sitter. She began to interview Truthful Jones for the job and got caught up in one of his stories explaining his baby sitting experiences. We carry on with the story now as Vince McMahon of World Wrestling Entertainment has shown up to recruit, Footlong, a big foot that Truthful was babysitting for a Eskimo couple that had gone on walkabout.
Vince took one look at Footlong and growled. "Hairball! Look what the cat coughed up, Triple H. Haaaaaaaiiirrrrrirbaaaaaall, he's gonna tear the Undertaker limb from limb!" Vince McMahon wasted no time on introductions. He went right into announcers mode as though a match were about to get under way.
I wasn't sure I cared for the name "Hairball" though I saw the thought process by which he came by it. "I'm Truthful Jones, Mr. McMahon. I'm a big fan of your outfit." I thought it best to be polite considering Footlong might secure gainful employment with his firm and all.
"Truthful Jones. I like that; it has a nice ring to it. You could lie like a dog with a white spotlight on you as though you were an angel. Truuuuuthful Jones, the most honest man in the world. The crowd would eat it up. You could be Hairballs manager." Vince seemed to be always thinking. I liked that in a man.
"We'll" I sez, "I guess that is all open for discussion. I don't know if we have the room to accommodate all these fellas you done brought along with you…." I looked up before I completed my sentence as four Blackhawk helicopters landed near the property. The superstars began constructing a large tent and a wrasslin' ring right there on the ice. It looked as though it weren't the first time.
"But I'm the giant. That's my whole identity. THE WORLD'S LARGEST ATHLETE! Ya, know? It doesn't sound as good as the world's second largest athlete. What am I supposed to do? Look at all the hair on him. I can't grow hair like that. I ain't goin' for implants either. I've always been for keepin' it real." The Big Show, his wrasslin' name, was in tears.
"Now, there's no use a puttin' the horse in front a the apple pie." I told him. "There ain't no deal in place. I ain't even asked Footlong if'n he's interested in wrasslin' as a career move. Besides, there's only one Big Show and that's you." I swear these wrasslers are like children. You got to handle them with kitten's gloves.
Just about then, Don King shows up with Mike Tyson. It shocked the daylights out of me. I thought Don King was dead you know. I guess I had him mixed up with Don Ho, though I don't think I ever saw Don King play an instrument. In any case, Tyson was broke and lookin' to do a series of exhibition matches on various islands around the world. So King had a date set for Trinidad and Tobago, he never did say which, in a months' time. Now, Tonya Harding had pulled out of the match claiming it was undignified, so Don was in a bit of a pickle.
"Only in America! This is one edification of icified freezatorius splendor. The didactic versisitude of my visionary sightedness has once again dealt cards to the sighted unseen by mankind."
"Yep, it's got some nice scenery if'n ya all likes white." I tried to go along with his chicanery. I could see he was anglin' for a deal.
"Gigantisaurus Podiatrificus. The rarified air of borealis centrificus beckons the clear blue oasis of the seven seas. Mr. Tyson, if you please." King's hair drifted towards Tyson, prompting him to speak.
"Mr. Foot, it would be ludicrous of me to expectorate you to remember the terror of my making Calhoun Smolvers my pet. That was eons ago. I would like to rejuvenate a certain portion of that prestidigitation at your expense, if you are of a predilectory manor." We had almost made it out of the maze on his head when we realized he had stopped squeaking.
"Ah, yes. Ludicrous, indeed. That is something we can discuss, predilectorily speaking and such." I was at a loss for words. That puzzle on his head was fascinating and I hadn't heard a word he said.
Khrushchev raised his hand like he was in school. "Weren't ya scared? Mike Tyson killed twenty people in the ring. They had a plastic surgeon ringside at all of his matches. He was the most fearsome, ferocious, feral, fumigating, fungal, funnel, farmhouse…."
"I gets the picture, my friend. Apparently, I never told you about the Thrilla With Godzilla that I fought in Japan. Well, I guess not, I was sworn to secrecy and all … in any case, no, I twern't a feared of Mike Tyson. Now let me get back to my story. Now, Footlong had a shy streak when it came to strangers and he'd let out this kind of low pitched wailin' sound and hide behind the house when strangers was around. Well, it scared the bejeebers out a Tyson."
Tyson says, "That's scarin' the bejeebers out a me. What excretory emancipation is that?"
I says, "Oh, that's jest Footlong, he's a mite shy 'round strangers is all"
Tyson gets all riled up 'bout that. "I knew it. It's the tattoo. Everyone thinks it's strange. I don't get it. What am I suppository to do? Cut me own skull off my craniotomy? No one understands me."
Well, I tells him, "Now, Mr. Tyson, taint nothin like that. He's like that with all strangers. Gots nothin' to do with that crazy mess on yer noggin'."
"Oh, well if you're sure then. I just get sentimental about exorcising it. I'm misunderstaken all the time." He was finally makin' some sense.
About this time, the Budweiser Bears came ridin' up in a white limousine pulled by a team of albino huskies. That's why we didn't see them comin'. They was drunk if'n ya ask me. But, I wasn't 'bout to tell no polar bears nuthin' bout their drinkin' habits, specially when theys a pullin' sleds full a free brewskys.
Well, I don't need to tell you that a brawl broke out. Them damn wrasslers are rowdy. The bears are born wrasslers. I'll give the Big Show credit though, he lasted the longest. But, the bears pinned them all in the center of the ring, one, two, three. Footlong was so happy to see them he was howlin' like a … well howlin' like somethin', I couldn't quite figure out what it reminded me of.
Bigfoot gives me a big hug and jumps in the limo with the bears. Off they go and that's the last I ever saw of him. Reunited with his family. All legal, of course.
With Footlong gone all the attention turned to me. Well, I ain't one for the spotlight. Them wrasslers is so sensitive. It would have broke their hearts to have a man my size a whoopin' their butts on a nightly basis. I figured the charitable thing to do was turn the whole deal down.
Somehow, Don King convinced Tyson to take a swing at me, ya know to entice me to do the Trinidad and Tobago show. Well, I tried to hold back, but instinct took over. He came to about twenty minutes later and told me that I hit him with the most ludicrous punch he'd ever been hit with.
Another twenty minutes went by and I was all alone. Took twenty-three days for mom and dad to get home from their walkabout. They were sad about Footlong, but glad they wouldn't have to change his diapers no more.
"So, that's the answer to your question, Mrs. Yukon. Yep, I've had baby sittin' experience."
"Well, it's too late for bingo now. Some more wine?" Canada smiled. "Maybe you could tell us another story."
"Yeah. There's a few ya ain't heard I spect. Did I tell you the real story behind the first man on the moon?"
 Recognized |
Truthful Jones appears in my stories from time to time. He has a lot of tales to tell and I like relating them once in a while. I hope you enjoy.
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