Pizza Piss-up
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
ATB appears to be up and running again -- how peculiar. I didn't get to post
my New Year's Retrospective here because nothing was working, but I think
everyone that mattered got it via email, anyway.
But now I have a funny story for you, and this happened last night. First,
however, it bears a little bit of introduction.
Across the street from my side of the house live three or four men that we
like to call the Frat Boys. Now, they don't belong to a fraternity, and
they're all in their late thirties, but they just remind me of a bunch of
happy-go-lucky student bachelors. They live in this tiny house owned by one
of their fathers, and I have no idea what they do for a living. They do,
however, have various "projects" which they endeavour to complete on the
weekends. One such weekend was spent in sinking a concrete patio, upon which
they arranged all their inflatable furniture. Much drinking ensued to
celebrate this feat. For Christmas this year, they erected a huge inflatable
Grinch outside their front door. Much drinking ensued to celebrate this
feat.
Basically, these boys like to party. When I moved into this house, on a
Canada Day many years ago, they were seated in their front yard at 9:00 AM,
and the first thing they said to me was, "you wanna join us for a drink?" I
was fifteen at the time, and looked even younger. Nice boys, though. Every
important Canadian holiday sees them setting up some form of appropriate
display in their front yard and then having a party: Christmas, Canada Day,
Grey Cup Weekend, the Playoffs . . . the list is endless, and these occasions
are the only times where they get up early in order to get in some good
drinking before noon.
Basically, though, they're a bunch of fun guys and they're great neighbours.
Anyway, last night, as I was getting ready for bed, around midnight, I heard a
lot of engine revving, and some swearing. I looked out my window, immediately
(and correctly) suspecting that the Frat Boys had something to do with it. I
saw a tiny red car perched on a snowbank that crossed the Frat Boys'
"driveway" (read: mud track into back yard). The inhabitants of the FB House
drive pickups, so getting over that hump is only difficult for visitors. The driver was so hopelessly
stuck that he tried to enlist the help of a working snowplow, which carefully
ignored him.
Finally, the head Frat Boy, whom I like to call Chuck, just because he looks
like he could be a Chuck, came out in baseball cap, parka, polkadot boxers,
and wellies -- typical January attire for a Canadian winter. After some
discussion, he tried to push the car back into the driveway, while the driver
pressed on the gas. That not working, he pushed it out -- or tried, and then
fell on his bare knees in the ice. Eventually (and this is after I assembled
my brothers to observe), they were successful, and the car was free and in the
street. Instead of driving off, however, the driver got out. An exchange was
made, and Chuck scrambled off through the ice back to his house. The driver
was not, as I had suspected, a FBH visitor -- he was the pizza man.
I hope he got a good tip.
Posted by Ally at January 4, 2005 09:05 PM