Stories and Humor to Make You Laugh by C.L. (Cindy) Beck
Tags: lifestyle, humor
Photo © sxc.hu/hortongrou
Not long ago I wrote about how I tried to glue my armpits together using Super Glue. Well, okay, it wasn't that I actually tried to do that because only a nut would intentionally glue her armpits closed. But, since that particular incident was just one of several with the stuff, you'd think I would've been extra careful about where I put the bottle....
The other night we were lying in bed, and I heard what sounded like an otherworldly moan. Sitting straight up, I looked around the room for ghosts. Seeing none, I checked out Corky Porky Pie, the dog. He lay asleep on the floor, and although his legs were kicking like he was chasing something, I doubted it was the ghost in question.
"Ooooohhhhh." The voice moaned piteously, with an inflection that sounded almost familiar. I waited, hoping the voice would give up and go to sleep.
"Oooooohhh, ooooohhhh, ow."
I rolled over and looked at my hubby. "What's the matter, Russ?"
He grimaced as if dying, and I wondered if he was having a heart attack. Or a stroke. Or maybe bad gas. At his age, anything was possible.
"My leg has been injured somehow. Did you forget to chew off your toenails this week and have you accidentally sliced my leg from kneecap to ankle? It hurts terribly."
Scrunching up my face at the insulting idea that a woman as classy as I would chew off anything other than her fingernails, I tried to remain compassionate. "No, I didn't do it. Maybe you scratched yourself with your own toenails. Let me take a look and see if it needs a band-aid."
Russ turned on the light and moved back the covers on his left leg. I looked closely, saw nothing, and asked, "Where is it? I see a hairy leg, but no cut."
He rolled his eyes in what I thought was pain. Or maybe he had lint in his eye. Then again, it might have been cataracts. At his age, anything was possible.
He pointed to a spot halfway between his knee and ankle, and I inspected it thoroughly. Well, as thoroughly as I could, considering my glasses lay on the nightstand instead of perched on my nose. "There's nothing there," I announced, and then started to roll back over.
"No, it's there. You just didn't look hard enough," he groaned, bending his leg so he could point to the problem.
If there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that men are big wimps. Women can go through 24 hours of labor and then get up, nurse the newborn, straighten the house and fix a gourmet meal for ten.
A guy stubs his toe and he requires bed rest for a week.
I put one eye right down on Russ's bent knee, narrowly missing a stab in the eyeball with a leg hair. "Oh yeah, I kinda see something that looks like a little irritation. Let me go get that bottle of liquid bandage that I just bought, and in no time at all you'll feel better."
A few seconds later, I came back with it, brushed the liquid on his miniscule cut, and then blew on it so it would dry. "There, it should feel a lot better. Now go to sleep."
Russ half straightened his leg and with a scream that sounded more like a cat caught in a trap than a man with a tiny boo-boo, he leaped out of bed and hopped in circles. Probably from the pain. Or maybe for exercise. Then again, it might have been from Tourette's Syndrome. At his age, anything was possible.
"What did you put on there?" he said, through gritted teeth. "That isn't a band-aid; it's something that's pulling all the hairs off when I try to straighten my leg!"
I cocked my head. Liquid bandage didn't usually do that. I put on my glasses and looked at the small bottle. "Ummm ... yup, liquid bandage all right."
Russ grabbed it from me. I tried to grab the bottle back, but he held it behind him with one hand and reached for his glasses with the other. Pushing them on lopsided, he closed one eye, squinted with the other, and tried to get the words in focus. Finally, he said, "Shopper Glug?"
I laughed, straightened his glasses for him and said, "Read it again." In retrospect, I realize I shouldn't have done that. No, not laugh. Straighten his glasses so he could read.
"Super Glue," he read slowly. "Are you telling me you put Super Glue on my leg, thereby super-gluing my leg hairs together?"
I shrugged and tried my best to put on an innocent-little-girl expression. "Yes, but it was an accident. I didn't have my glasses on and I thought it was liquid bandage."
Russ spent the rest of the night rubbing at the glued hairs on his leg in an effort to loosen the stuff so it didn't pull. By morning, he had a bald spot there, but at least I could see that he really did have a cut. Albeit, a small one.
And I figure he should count himself lucky ... at least I didn't glue his armpits together.
------"Shopper Glug to the Rescue" © 2011 C.L. (Cindy) Beck------
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