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Friday, December 2, 2011

The Beverage-Y Hillbillies: Wherein the Square-Headed One Solidifies his Role as Neighborhood Cretin

Ladies and gentlemen, cats and kittens, welcome to Friday, the day on which we ask ourselves, Why didn’t I get an education and ensure myself a better-paying job?

The answer, my friend, is that I don’t know. Everyone tried to talk to you about it, but you know how you are.

You didn’t listen.

But it’s not too late. The future is still before us. And now, through my steadfast and possibly erroneous belief in the oracle-y powers of my iPod, played on the Friday morning commute and carefully scrutinized, you, too, can predict your immediate future.

Aw, come on! Play along!

Grace by Jeff Buckley
Have a Little Faith in Me by The BellRays
Two-Timing Touch and Broken Bones by The Hives
Crying by TV on the Radio
Wolf Like Me by TV on the Radio
Right Here Right Now by Jesus Jones
Mister Love by The Toadies

Interesting.  The presence of the elusive double-billing is curious, but we don’t question the ways of the iPod, we merely take heed.  This weekend?  Continued angst.

And snow.
And as we’ve done every Friday for oh, a while now, we return to our current diversion, The Beverage-y Hillbillies.

You remember them, yes?  The family of lanky-framed, cranial-ridged miscreants that moved in just four houses down? 

They’ve combined long-distance running with the five-fingered discount.

They’ve offered to relieve me of any spare change, which apparently is now in the five-dollar range.  Unless you don't have five?  Because three would work, too.

They’ve shown us how to break eggs and still not make an omelet.

This week’s installment? 

The Hillbillies Turn to Entrepreneur – Entrepra – Entrepreunuri – Owning Their Own Business!

When last we saw Boris, the Number One Son of a family of square-headed, pop-eyed sons, he was enjoying his role as Neighborhood Vandal from the hood of a neighbor’s car.

Boris, Boris, Boris.  How will I miss you if you won’t go away?

The next time I saw him, a week later, I was approaching the little gas station/purveyors of deep-fried foods and horribly over-priced “convenience” items at the end of our block.  And while it is convenient to be able to buy, say, a burrito, at 11:00 at night within walking distance, I don’t recommend it.  On top of said burrito often being, shall we say, past its prime, the smell is such that it will make its home in your pores and cause passersby to sniff the air nervously when you go by. 

So I was about to go into our little store for a burrito – no! wait! Fresca – when who do I come across but Boris.

“Psst.”  Boris appears to be leaking air from the side of his mouth.


“You wanna buy some green?”  Boris’s pop-eyes scan the parking lot, spin clockwise, then counter clockwise, and finally settle on my chest.

I frown.  “Some what?”

He sneers and goes back to scrutinizing the parking lot.  “Yeah.”  He grins, an unpleasant expression, and suddenly I can see what he will look like as a much older man.  “You wouldn’t, would ya?”

It hits me, what he’s selling.  “Green”?  Is that what we’re calling it these days?  I don’t know what bothers me more, the fact that he’s selling pot in front of my little neighborhood store or that he thinks I don’t know what he’s talking about.


I push past him. 

“What he doing, that boy?”  The clerk is speaking to me, staring out the glass door at Boris.

“He’s selling pot.”

The clerk laughs, a mirthless bark, and says something under his breath in a language for which I have no reference point.  He reaches into his pocket, opens his cell phone.

“I call my cousin.  He is detective.  Police.  I am seek of that boy.”

And me?  I’m getting sick of that boy, too.


Camille said...

Ahhh, but how we love your Boris stories - we're not seek of his shenanigans yet. Have a lovely weekend Pearl. I do believe your snow is heading our way. Thanks.

Shelly said...

Methinks Liza Bean could easily figure out a plan to rid the neighborhood of the square headed folk. Have you consulted her about it yet?

mybabyjohn/Delores said...

Buy him a cat or two for Christmas, but first, introduce them to yours. Soon his car will be off on a kitty fantasy adventure, his booze will have miraculously disappeared, his computer security code will have been cracked and his credit card tapped. He will come on hands and knees to you asking why the band has moved to his attic and begging you to take them back or take him in and clean him up.
I can't believe those religious zealots I recommended earlier aren't working. You're not really trying are you Pearl?

Joshua said...

My Fridays usually run to the tune of "Mad World" by Gary Jules.

I don't know why I'm saying that now, but it just does.

Eva Gallant said...

How could you turn poor Boris in? He's only trying to make a living!

Symdaddy said...

I've tried most humorously to reply to your once again excellent Friday offering, however I just cannot get my response accepted.

In my humble little editor I have compost that which you are now reading as a last, and desperate, effort succeed.

My original reply went something like this...

Bla, bla, bla. Pleased you didn't succumb to
Boris and his offer of instant 'happy'.
(something funny). Bla, bla, bla.

And then there was another rib tickler.

Something like that anyway. I am most frustrated and sincerely hope that this effort makes it though you blog defences. I have patience to try again.

Have a nice weekend!

Symdaddy said...

Dammit! That one got through!

Symdaddy said...


Silly me! I did of course mean 'composed'

jenny_o said...

Did you ever find out if the clerk's cousin was able to help out? I dearly hope so. All the Borises of the world need consequences. I admire your refusal to cower in his presence. I would be shuffling past, hoping he wasn't going to mug me - in OR out of the store.

vanilla said...

No, no. Ees right thing-- perhaps Cousin can make Borees deesappear for a time.

jenny_o said...

And, by the way - your book "I Was Raised to be A Lert" is SO good. You have a great, readable style and a natural storyteller's voice, girl. I was trying to come up with my favourite part, and it was hard but I settled on the one where your mother fixes your dislocated fingers. Oh, my, she should have been a paramedic!

The Jules said...


What's he think he's selling? M&Ms?

In my day, we called it Δ9- tetrahydrocannabinol.

Joanne said...

My God, the square head is a block head. He certainly cannot size up either a location or a customer. One down? Sadly, this seems to be a bottom of the agenda crime these days. It has to escalate to supply chain and store front to get attention these days. And he still probably sleeps in his own bed at night.

Craver Vii said...

Pearl, it is rewarding to read your blog! Each visit clears the cranial cobwebs little by little, and one day, thanks to you, I hope to become functionally lucid. ;-)

Leenie said...

Yes, how dare you squelch his entrailmanureial efforts. True, how can we meess him if he won't go away? Seek, seek boy.

Simply Suthern said...

Hopefully Cuz got there in time so you would have an opportunity to Miss him.

Nezzy said...

When ya figure how to exterminate the square heads in your part of the country let me know. These old back woods hills and hollers are filled with 'em!

God bless ya and have a marvelous weekend!!! :o)

Dawn @Lighten Up! said...

Yeah. That boy has got to GO! Be careful buying burritos, Pearl! I don't like the sounds of this young fella!

Rawknrobyn.blogspot.com said...

Oh Pearl, your humor just keeps improving. Don't know how you do it. I love that country song line you tossed in on Boris' behalf ("How will I miss you if you won't go away?").

A couple kids were selling "mistletoe" in front of a local market here. Now I'm beginning to wonder about that. It looked pretty green. [I should've bought some.]

Drink hot cocoa and stay warm.

Sioux said...

And I imagine you are seek of that sheet, too.

Tom G. said...

I never get seek of these stories. They are quickly becoming the highlight of my Friday.

Belle said...

Your opening about an education cracked me up. I didn't listen either. I'm glad the store owner is calling the police since Boris probably sells to kids.

Gigi said...

Oh, Pearl! I WISH I could read your blog from work - I certainly could have used this one today! Have a great weekend!

Daisy said...

I agree with Shelly...it's time to sic Ms Lisa Bean and Dolly on him. Then he'd get tuned up pretty quick.

Michelle said...

And don't forget about COUGHEQU.
CULATOLE says " hello" from hen HETU.
And we already told you SCHAR went RAT.

Joanna Jenkins said...

Boris needs to get the boot....
Stay warm. xo jj

Crystal Pistol said...

Nothin worse than a burrito past its prime. Ew.

Boris needs a good spanking.

Tempo said...

Green? didn't he have any better colored paints? ;-)

River said...

Boris appears to be multi-skilled.
Egging, begging and selling in addition to swiping and running. If only he could combine these skills in a legitimate job....

Lisa @ Two Bears Farm said...

I guess I'm not the only one with completely crazy neighbors :-/

Susan in the Boonies said...

I'm totally seek of him, the nasty little offender. I hope he gets what's coming to him.

Gloria said...

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