Tag Archives: Hammer

Giving Greetings In His Native Tongue

You know, there’s a reason Sarcasmo is called Sarcasmo.

Mostly, I’m thinking that all comes down to him having been corrupted by a certain bad influence for long periods of time than his younger brothers. Not that I’m going to name names. Something about the Fifth Amendment to the US Constitution or something.

Ahem.

Anyway. Today’s a big day for Sarcasmo. It’s the day he gets to finally have a birthday without a zero or one in front of his age. He’s not 06, nor 16, but 20. Which, oddly, is more frightening than I thought it would be, having a little dude in his 20s. You know, I’m just going to stop doing that right now. Let’s be positive.

The reason Sarcasmo is called Sarcasmo is because he believes sarcasm is his native language. Not English. No, that would be far too easy. Instead, he likes to refer to sarcasm as just one of many services he offers.

Oh, right. Like he’s got any sort of monopoly on that. Erm. Ah. Or something.

As I was saying before that bit of sarcasm slipped in, Sarcasmo has had a number of different names over the years, but this is the only one that was 100-percent Sarcasmo approved. He likes to think it fits his self image of a worldly man. I’ll not mention the other ones because I don’t want to have the young dude stroke out on his birthday.

Although it’s sometimes hard to remember that he’s the same child I once held in my arm (that’s arm, not arms. Arm. I could balance him on my forearm, with my palm cupping his head. He loved that.) when I think of my now about 6-foot-4-inch young man, there’s still a little of the baby dude in his eyes.

Even though he’s spent the last half decade or more attempting to grow a hard, cynical outer shell so as not to take anything more than glancing blows from an angry world, I believe at his heart there still exists a core of effervescent joy constantly seeking out the marvelous and wonderful in the world around us. Being older, but not old enough, it can have a hard time showing through, but I see it in his actions, if not most of the words.

Sarcasmo is one of the scariest-smart dudes I’ve ever met. If he ever begins to use his powers for evil, instead of good, I, for one, am running for the horizon at speed. This is a dude who has the tools to create a world of his choosing, should he only choose to use them.

It’s tradition on birthdays that the loved ones surrounding the birthday dude or dudette give gifts. There’s one gift I’d like to give Sarcasmo that I don’t think he’ll take, but I’d like to see him do it anyway. It’s this metaphorical hammer and chisel to maybe crack open that cynical shell a bit and let some of the joy in the world seep inside.

Sarcasmo is a young dude’s nickname. Here’s hoping he earns and accepts a new one.

Until then, though, it’s time to air kiss a bit of love his way. Happy birthday, Sarcasmo! We love you.

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Anticipation Nightmare

by Richard

If there’s one thing I forgot to take into account when I decided to take the job as a part-time tutor at the Wonderful Elementary School, it’s that I would have to deal with little dudes and little dudettes.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not an idiot. I knew I’d be teaching the little shriekers. It’s just that I forgot I would also have to put up with them.

Especially when they’re wound up so tight they could snap a spring in twain. And, brother, when it’s Halloween and they’re going to be going out to hunt up candy in only a couple of hours, they are wound — the heck — up. Way, way up.

Most of those kids who celebrate Halloween were up and down out of their seats faster than a hyperactive mole trying to escape the hammer. (Sure, there are some kids who don’t celebrate Halloween. I was told by one that his mom considers Halloween to be the devil’s birthday so it’s no reason to celebrate. There are times when I have a very, very hard time holding in my opinions. That was one.) The enthusiasm/excitement was contagious.

Kids who wouldn’t have their parents catch them dead wearing make up because they worry the parents might think they’re in costume, were grabbing onto their chairs with clenched fists to make sure they didn’t accidentally join in on the suppressed sugar-party-to-come.

All I’ll say is it’s a good thing I got to leave just after lunch. If I’d have had to stay much longer, there was a very good chance some of those kids would have had to trick or treat on crutches. Accidentally, of course.

Now my only problem is trying to keep myself calm until I can get out of the house and start trying to scare some people. Or something. I’ve heard. Not that I would do that on purpose. Only, you know, accidentally. Of course.

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Happy Thanksgiving

by Richard

Thanksgiving is a time for all of us to set aside a little bit of time and go over our lives. Not necessarily with a fine-toothed comb, but just in general.

I like to find things that might be a bit out of the ordinary, things that remind me that the world is a pretty odd place, full of wonders and mysteries and just how much I love it like that. Hey, I’m thankful for the world being like that.

I’m thankful for language, so I can tell that jerk in the car next to me he got his driver’s license from a box of cereal.

I’m thankful for the accelerator so I can get away from that dude in the car next to me.

I’m thankful for video game systems, which give my young dudes something to do when I’m desperate for just five minutes alone.

I’m thankful for the hammer I’m going to use on that gaming system the next time they start fighting over it.

I’m thankful for my health. Considering I’m starting my eighth year after a heart attack (I had one when I was 39), I’m pretty much into bonus time here. As long as I’m not passing out from blood loss and breaking my nose by crashing into and taking out half-moon-shaped holes of the bathroom countertop, I’m good.

I’m thankful for you dudes out there who actually read this stuff. I hope you got something out of it the past almost four years. Even if it was only a couple of minutes wasted without being bored.

I’m thankful that I had my mom, even if it was for a lot fewer years than I wanted.

Most of all, right now I’m thankful that when I stop typing, I can go downstairs and be surrounded by love and joy and family and a slobbery, barking dog. And that they know me well enough to allow me these few minutes alone and love me enough to give them to me.

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