• Welcome to the Checkmate Community Forums forums.

    You are currently viewing our boards as a guest which gives you limited access to view most discussions, articles and access to our other FREE features.
    By joining our free community you will be able to:

    » Interact with over 10,000 Checkmate Fanatics from around the world!
    » Post topics and messages
    » Post and view photos
    » Communicate privately with other members
    » Access our extensive gallery of old Checkmate brochures located in our Media Gallery
    » Browse the various pictures in our Checkmate photo gallery

    Registration is fast, simple and absolutely free so please, join our community today!

    If you have any problems with the registration process or your account login, please contact support by clicking here or by using the"contact us" link at the bottom of the page.

Fortuitous

So what happen then?
Did the Popo come?
Did you continue fighting with this creep?
The world wants to know.
I haven't felt so much suspense since. Who shot JR. :D
:popcorn::popcorn::popcorn:
 
So, in response to kicking the truck instead of some little miscreants posterior, as I'm verbally working my way through the alphabet sometimes several letters at a time, knifeboy gets his pants unhooked from the receiver and runs off around the back of the store. I try to walk it off but it doesn't work, neither does hopping, crawling or even slithering on my back. As I'm sitting there holding onto my foot and watching knifeboy try to run with his pants half off, I do manage a chuckle and that's the reason there might have been a tear in my eye. Presently, I am able to unclench my teeth and open my other eye. I hobble to the truck. There is the knife that someone left behind. It's a beauty. Looks real old and hand made but polished and buffed and shiney. It feels real good in my grip. Nice balance, bone handle, brass guard and butt, ground cannelure in the blade. Not your regular hunting knife. I look up while admiring the knife and one of those soccer moms is now walking past with her little girl. I smile at the little kid and she smiles right back and waves. " And how are you today?" I ask the cute little kid. "I'm five" she says with a proud smile and holds up four fingers on one hand and one on the other. The mom looks at me and then the knife. Her eyebrows raise up a little. She whisks up the little girl into her arms and speeds up a little toward the store. I make a quick deduction that it is probably a good time to leave the area. I do drive around the back of the store but find nothing. In the coming days the foot turns some cool shades of pink, blue, and purple and swells up way bigger than one can believe. For a few weeks I think about how nice it would be to have a little talk with knifeboy, especially when I'm admiring that hunting knife. One time I even find myself daydreaming about a quaint little woodshed, a big leather belt, and me and knifeboy. Now fast forward to just a couple of days ago.
 
The busted foot is mending nicely. I've pretty much forgotten about the matter. The phone rings with a " half of an electrical circuit is dead " call. I set up a time and hit it the next morning. I roll up the next morning. The house is about three blocks from the big chain food store where knifeboy put on his act for me. I'm looking around for a glimpse of him or his buddies, thinking how nice it would be to speak with the parents. I don't see any familiar faces. Big man meets me at the door, kind of a Duck Dynasty meets the Marine Corps type of guy. He is real interested in the troubleshooting and we talk at length and I end up at a receptacle in the hallway pretty quickly. I pull the outlet from the wall and observe some burnt up insulation on the wiring. As I jiggle the outlet, the lights come back on in the kitchen and livingroom. I put a new receptacle on and as I stand up, there are framed photographs on the hallway wall. One in particular stands out. Fortuitous. I even say it out loud. I cant hardly believe my luck. Staring back from one photo in particular is knifeboy. " Nice looking family you have here" I say. "All except this one here" says the guy and taps the photo of knifeboy with his thumb. Tells me he has had to take some time off of work to come home because 'momma' is having trouble with 'junior'. I smile. In the living room, there are some nice mounted trophies. Big man tells me he works in the oil fields in the Dakotas but lives to hunt. I nickname him 'Rough Neck' in my mind right there. So I ask ole Rough if he has time for a short story. Rough pulls out a chair in the kitchen and we settle in. At first, Rough is sitting there with his hands behind his head and his legs streched out. he lights a smoke and it points toward the ceiling as it protrudes from his lips. He smiles, eyes twinkling, the lines on his face, the sun tanned skin almost like leather, the muscles in his arms bulging out, all tell a story. About the time I describe the three little robbers in detail, the cigarette begins to droop down. When I get to the knife part, his mouth opens and the cigarette hangs there drooping from his upper lip. It hangs there for a time and then it drops down onto his lap. I can tell he has something to say. I stop, expecting him to remove the cigarette from his lap. A little smoke is rising up from down there. A sadness is spreading across his face. He sets his arms down upon the table and his shoulders slump down. An uncomfortable silence follows. "I'll tell ya all about this really nice huntin knife if you put out the fire on the seat there", I say. "Yeah yeah" says ole Rough as he reaches down and grabs the cigarette and puts it out between his thumb and forefinger. He's all eyes and ears as I describe the knife. A great sadness spreads across Roughs face. "You wouldn't by chance still have the knife ?" asks Rough expectantly. "Oh yeah" I say. "It's a beauty." "Rough purses his lips and exhales. Rough sits there kind of numb while I finish the story, only perking up a little when I tell em about smacking knifeboy, or should I say junior, in the face. When I tell him about breaking my foot on the hitch instead of knifeboy er ah junior, he shakes his head back and forth. "Well, I knew somethin was up by the way you looked at the picture in the hall" says Rough. Rough starts apologizing and calling me mister and sir, kind of makes me uncomfortable. "May I make a suggestion?" I ask Rough.
 
I ask Rough what time he expects junior home from school, and tell him how I would love to see the look on juniors face when he strolls through the front door and spies me sitting there. Rough agrees. I have some more stops to make during the day but they seem to fly by. I marvel at my good fortune. How many times do you wish you can catch somebody screwing with you or your stuff but it never seems to happen. I barely make it back to Rough's place from mine cause I go all of the way home to retrieve the knife but don't say anything about it. While we are waiting for juniors return, I ask Rough about the knife. He tells me his "Grand Pap" was a pretty good knife maker back in the day and even showed Rough a thing or two. Roughs father passed on while he was young but his Grand Father brought him up. His Grand Father was newly retired at the time so they got to spend lots of time doing everything together. Knife is the last one his Grand Father made and gave to Rough. When the appointed time arrives, Rough and myself are getting along well. We stand at each end of the front window, peeking out from the corner of the curtains. Presently, the three amigos ride up on their bicycles but stop dead in their tracks at the sight of my little Ranger pickup in the driveway. "Smart fella wouldn't have parked his truck out front like that" whispers Rough at me with a smile. "Once an electrician has been shocked a few times, their minds just don't work the same anymore" I shoot back. "Why didn't you tell me to park out back?" I ask Rough with a grin. "I thought you knew what you were doing" says Rough while shaking a finger at me. The three amigos stare at the truck, then they look at the house, then each other. Two of the amigos ride quickly off down the cul de sac. They appear to be having a serious conversation by the looks on their faces. "No big surprise there" I say with disgust. "Quick", says Rough "Here he comes." Rough and I practically trip over one another finding a seat before juniors appearance in the living room. The door knob turns ever so slowly. The door opens a crack but stops right there. The door has an oval window that is opaque so you can only see juniors outline as he puts an ear to the crack to listen inside. "Is that you junior?" asks Rough. Juniors shadow pops straight up outside of the door.
 
Did someone say Southern comfort? Whew, got my attention. So junior comes into the front room in slow motion after some more coaxing from his father. His feet move slowly forward but don't lift up off of the floor, kind of like moonwalking forward into a high wind. Junior is pretty embarrassed but also frightened. He looks at me like I'm a rattlesnake about to strike. I'm thinking that he might be embarrassed right now but might be em-bare-assed shortly. "Oh yeah", I say to Rough, "we've already been introduced". I stand up. "Ive got something in the truck I'd like to show you" I say to Rough. Junior looks at me and follows my move as if he is a little mouse dangling in front of an enormous boa constrictor. I come back and put the wrapped up bundle into Roughs hands. Junior looks like a person who has just been sentenced to the firing squad. He is ashen white. Perhaps his father has had a word or two with him while I was outside? Rough unwraps the knife and looks at it. "Yep, that's it" says Rough. He looks sad. He sits junior down on the edge of the coffee table and talks at length about junior regaining his grades and attendance and about respect. I can tell he loves the boy. It's also plain to see that the boy has broken his heart. Rough wraps up the knife and hands it back to me. I hold up my hand and say "You better keep that crappy old knife, damn thing's so sharp I'll probably cut my finger off with it" Rough looks kind of offended for a moment then stands up and looks me right in the eye and puts out his hand and says "Thank you". His mouth is set in a grim straight line but his eyes smile at me. "Well, I guess we better step into the garage" sighs Rough. I unbuckle my belt and quick hold it out to Rough. "Looking for something like this?" I ask. "You read my mind" says Rough. We step into the garage.
 
The garage has lots of hunting and camping stuff including a really nice Jeep and two big quads. Rough is all business as he instructs junior to grab onto the edge of the workbench. Rough then looks at me and sighs. I'm thinking that Rough is going to give him a swat and maybe say a few words followed by a swat and some more words and so on. Whap, whap, whap, whap, whap, goes Rough. I can feel the heat across the garage. Rough reaches down and lifts junior back up by his center belt loop cause his knees look a little weak. Whap, whap. whap, whap, whap, sings my leather belt again. "I hope we never have to go through this again" says Rough. Junior turns to his Father and says he is sorry and hugs him. Rough drops the belt on the floor and picks up the boy like he is a feather. I step into the living room. A little while later they come into the room and the boy appologizes to me and hands me my belt back, it's all nicely rolled up. Rough and I sit down, junior remains standing, and we talk a little about the careful selection of friends, entitlement, good judgement, the fulfilment of getting a job done, helping out at home, being a leader instead of a follower, and the possible consequences of one's actions. With the utmost of seriousness, I show junior whats inside my vest that I was wearing that morning and tell him that had I felt my life was in the balance, that instant, that morning, he would be dead right now and we wouldn't be having this conversation. I glance at Rough and his eyes are closed. Mrs. Rough comes in the back door. She looks concerned as she sees the rolled up belt in my hand. "Boss is here, I better be going" I say as I stand up. "When things calm down some, hows about you and me looking up juniors friends parents?" I say. "I know both of those boys parents" says Rough, "It's going to be a pleasure". "Thanks Buddy" I say as I head out the door. I know some will disagree but it sure felt good seeing junior get his rear warmed up. I'm hoping to see the scene repeated with his friends but who knows. Fortuitous, I like that word.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top