A Ten Pound Bag - Cover

A Ten Pound Bag

Copyright© 2020 by Emmeran

Chapter 165: Urkel and the Princess

Editor: nnpdad 19 June 2021

Introductions had to be the first order of business, roles and responsibilities were going to shift around and new relationships had to be forged. The table filled up, there were a lot of important people here, including little Esther, who snuggled up in my lap and was yapping at me about everything and anything that had happened while I was gone. I finally spied Aunty at the far end of the table and tasked Esther with taking care of her, off that little girl bounced with determination and a mission.

I had to talk to the time twitchers first, I grabbed poor Timmons and put him in my chair, leaving him with the task of making basic introductions across the board and asked Jeb to give him a hand. I grabbed my small original group and the Gretzkys and we moved back to the camper for a moment. There was minor confusion on all of their faces but I wasn’t above playing this up. Hell, I had a minor buzz and needed a laugh.

But I needed to clarify this quickly otherwise confusion would reign and the wrong things might be said. Once I had them all in that small camper I merely said, “Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to Steve Urkel and his lovely wife Lucinda. They join us from the early 1980’s.”

You could have heard a pin drop for almost a minute. Then Sheriff started stammering and the ladies started giggling and it all turned into raucous laughter. Sheriff was still beside himself, the Urkel thing still bugged him although with his size and presence it was beyond absurd. Hell, if I outlived him I’d make sure that went on his headstone.

Heck, I had addressed the bouquets of thistles I sent to my best friend’s grave to ‘Lurch’; his wife protested both the thistles and the nickname but damnit woman, he wouldn’t want roses from me. He was my best buddy not my sweetheart; thistles made him laugh. He also had liked the manly gifts I gave him, like the fine, hand-made hatchet and the custom machete. Gifts that made the women say “What the f•©k?” and all the guys go, “Damn, I wish I’d gotten that.”

Of course, I also gave my buddies tampons or some other silly shit for Valentine’s Day and a box of condoms on Father’s Day. Most importantly, on the anniversary of the day they were wounded I sent them children’s cartoon band-aids of some sort. It was important to keep laughing at the world together. The minute any of us started to take the world seriously, we’d shatter. Laughter was our glue of love.

Sheriff was just starting to learn this lesson, Lucinda didn’t yet know that he had whipped a man and that he had, upon reflection agreed with that necessity. Did she ever need to know that? It wasn’t my place to ask or even consider. Rabbi seemed to firmly believe that what was done absolutely had to be done and he was the one it was done to. He definitely got the final word in that discussion.

The source of this story is Finestories

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