Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Happy Birthday, Horace "Horseballs" Callahan

Twoday, June the 2th, is my sixty-tooth birthday. I say tooth because that’s how I celebrated Birthday Eve: at the dentist having a broken tooth (which had previously been roto-rootered and capped) removed from my body. It was a nasty-looking thing and a gusher—it bled most of the night, and the dogs stayed extra-close because they smelled fresh meat in the offing.

If all that wasn’t bad enough, the tooth fairy never showed up either, so I mentioned it to her this morning.

“Did you have the alleged pulled tooth under your pillow, hmmmm?” she asked.
“You mean the blood-soaked pillow the dogs kept slathering at all night? No, I did not, your Supreme Fairyness.”
“Well there you go then. No tooth, no payoff. And besides, I didn’t have anything smaller than a one dollar bill.”

Cheap fucking fairy.

So, with the recent demise of tooth number #9, which is literally right under my nose, I suddenly look like I’m sixty-two. Or eighty-two. Actually, with that big missing spot right in the upper middle, I look like Horace “Horseballs” Callahan, fresh off the fertilizer truck.

But you wanna know what? I don’t give a shit. I’m still the same loveable asshole I’ve always been, only now I look more the part—kind of like Wilford Brimley selling life insurance to all the gullible fertilizer truck owners.

Now that I’m an official senior citizen according to the Social Security Administration, I’m a new lead for the scammers, con artists, and gypsies who prey on old people. Well, for their information, I’m onto their tricks. I don’t need aluminum siding on our stucco house, there’s nothing wrong with the furnace because we don’t have one, and I pass on the millions of gold doubloons hidden by the Nazis that are waiting just for me in Abyssinia. Fuck you all very much.

There’s still eleven hours left of my birthday, a day that technically belongs to my mom because she did all the work, but I’m going to enjoy it anyway. I’m on dry socket watch; since I’m on dry socket watch, we’ll be having Martha’s famous pizza-flavored gruel for supper; and maybe I’ll even get a gift, but I’m not expecting much from a woman who only has a buck.

But the hell with a gift. I’d much rather have a hug, some spit swapping, and a nice relaxing tummy rub—all the stuff that’s free when you love someone . . .


Wandering Coyote said...

Well, Happy Birthday, Charlie. Sorry you had to have dental work done, though; suckage.

I hope the remaining hours of your birthday are very pleasant indeed!

Mel said...

Happy Birthday, Charlie! (((you)))

Anonymous said...

Sorry I'm late with the wishes, and I'm damned if I'm going to rub your tummy, but I hope you soon can celebrate a little more heartily, without worry about your socket. Would love a photo of the gap-toothed grin.

Kim Ayres said...

Hope it was a good one - tooth or no tooth. Do we get a photo of you as a pirate now?

Cathy said...

Happy Birthday, Charlie! Denis celebrates his on Saturday. I'm going to take him down to Bisbee and see if I can get him lost out on a trail. ;)

Mary Witzl said...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY from me too!

Pizza flavored gruel? Wow, thanks! I've been looking for ways to lose my appetite!

Charlie said...

WC: Suckage it is, which I'm not allowed to do for another day or so. I never drink from a straw until the dentist says I can't, at which time I get this overwhelming craving to . . . suck through a straw. I believe I have issues with authority figures.

MEL: Thanks, Mel—you're such a good hugger. I love 'em.

LW3: FYI, I have a perfectly nice tummy, and when it's rubbed I purr Broadway show tunes.

And I would have to be a lunatic to give you a photo because, within five minutes, it would be on every thread on LT.

KIM: There's no way I can outdo you or Johnny Depp as a pirate. Nope, has to be a hayseed.

CATHY: Are you going to leave him in Bisbee, or go find him and bring him home?

MARY: Thanks for the wishes. Any time you want to lose your appetite, come see me or the House Chef.

Barbara Bruederlin said...

Wow! You sure know how to do dry socket watch! Next time I have a tooth pulled, I;m going to your house.

Happy Birthday, Dear Charlie, you belong in a zoo, etc etc. Massive hugs are being squeezed through the cable.

Meg said...

Happy belated birthday! You should take a picture, like Kim said, but with a canister of oatmeal with a caption that says something about lowering your cholesterol.

Have fun rolling in the social security dough.

kara said...

happy late birthday!

with one less tooth, you should find yourself to be lighter, faster and able to fly.

for reals.

Charlie said...

BARBARA: Boy, do I love those massive hugs! The only problem is my stuffing starts to come out of my ears.

Shit. Who cares. Hug away.

MEG: No pitchers, please! And yeah, the SS dough is going to be massive—especially since it's taxable.

Don't you owe me a hug or two?

KARA: You know, I'm glad you joined this bunch here.

And you know, I DO feel much lighter with that tooth gone. I've had much fewer problems holding my head up so it doesn't fall forward and snap off at the root.

I'll let you know how the flying went after I climb up on the roof this afternoon. If you don't hear anything from me, assume it didn't go well.