Stories and Humor to Make You Laugh by C.L. (Cindy) Beck
Tags: summertime, fun, humor, hammock
Nothing's more fun than being in the woods in the summer. It's peaceful. And calm. Very calm. Maybe a little too calm, so I decided to put up the hammocks in hopes of generating some variety to the peace and quiet.
Now let me explain. There's only one right way to get into a hammock. I back up to it, grab it and spread the material out underneath my little derrière, then sit on it as if it's a chair, while swinging my legs up onto it. Aaahh, yes. Comfort.
Naturally, as soon as I moved myself into pre-launch position at the hammock's side, Russ decided to give instructions on the proper method. "That's not the way you do it. You'll end up falling out. You should step over the hammock with one foot so that you're straddling it. That way the hammock will stay open and you won't fall when you sit in it."
Humph. "I've been sitting in hammocks this way for years and trouble has never even batted an eye," I said, sending a look of superiority in his direction.
Naturally, Russ just raised his eyebrows in that non-verbal way that says, "I know better."
I shot back a look that said ... well ... never mind what it said. Suffice it to say we both proceeded to get into the hammocks in our own unique ways. Except mine was right and his was wrong.
Lying next to each other in a shady glen, listening to the birds chirping and the scent of wildflowers wafting on the air is a lovely experience. I wouldn't know that for a fact, though, because Russ started swinging and banging into me in a version of something that could only be called, "Bumper hammocks."
After enjoying the camaraderie—which really meant I was tired of losing at bumper hammocks—I decided it was time for something else. I opened the bag of cheese puffs, and threw a few at Russ—a game I liked immensely since I was the only one with a bag of puffs. I wiped the cheese dust from my hands onto a napkin and threw that at him, too. Then I said for his edification, "When one does hard work, such as throwing snacks at one's spouse, it always makes a body thirsty. I think I'll get some juice."
I left the hammock, walked over and poured big glasses of icy, cold orange juice, but when I arrived back at the hammocks, my brilliant brain quickly spotted a problem. It's impossible to hold two glasses of liquid refreshment, take off shoes, and sit down in a hammock at the same time.
I handed Russ's glass to him. "Here, take this." He took it and promptly started sipping and reading a book. Yes, it's true; he can do both at the same time.
Sidling up to my hammock, I switched the glass of juice to my left hand so I could undo my shoes with my right, and prepared to enter the hammock. The right way. Backside first.
My mama didn't raise no dummy—I glanced behind to be sure the hammock was really there. After all, it would never do to have Russ proven right about the way to get into the hammock. It sat there unopened and only about an inch wide. But hey, sitting down would take care of that. Holding my glass high, I sat on the inch-wide strip of fabric.
The hammock swung out from beneath me; I flipped over backward and flew through the air, the glass still clutched tightly in my hand.
"Ohhhhhh," Russ said with a gasp. I felt certain it was out of concern for my little derrière, but it could have been a gut reaction from the sixteen ounces of ice-cold juice that flew from my cup and splashed in his face.
As I lay on the ground, legs sticking up in the air, and an empty glass in my hand, I heard Russ say, "See? I told you that you're supposed to straddle a hammock to get in it. I hope you're all right, though, because I have orange juice in my eyes, so I can't see to get over there and help you up."
I looked at him. His glasses appeared to have a bad case of orange measles. His white T-shirt looked like someone had tie-dyed it orange, and his book had splotches all over the page.
To make a long story short, I finally managed to get up, all the while explaining that there was nothing wrong with the way I tried getting into the hammock. It all happened because I was taking off my shoes. Because the hammock was getting old. Because I had cheese puff dust on my fingers. Because Mars and Venus were in the eastern sky.
None of those reasons convinced Russ. We hung his shirt on a tree and it took two hours to dry. But, the interesting part was getting the sticky stuff off his arms and face. I held the water jug over his head and poured ice-cold water over him. Yes indeedy, if there's one thing I'm good at when we go up to the woods, it's bringing plenty of cold water. That and I excel at getting into hammocks.
Now the major question is this ... will Russ refuse to visit the woods ever again?
Naw, I don't think so. Why would he do that when it's so peaceful and calm?
------"Hammocks for Two" © C.L. (Cindy) Beck------
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