He Gave Me Head

August 8, 2008 at 1:07 pm (Cussed Dumbers, The Easy Chair)

What do they call the words that hold a sentence together? A, an, and, the, etc…? I just googled ‘a’, and guess how many I got? Results 110 of about 21,760,000,000 for a.

Because the title of this post really could use an ‘a’…

I dated an English major for a couple of years, and could probably ask her, but pride is not letting me do that. I must show that I retained some of my seventh-grade education. Synonym? No, that’s two different words that mean the same thing. Homonym? That would be here/hear, e.g. Antonym? Nope, negatory.

I’m not using Wikipedia, because I already looked there this morning, and got distracted for half an hour. Why? Well, let me tell you.

At work the other night, one of my regulars, a barfly who smokes flamboyant-colored ultra light cigarettes, came in for his nicotine fix. He carried a bag that looked like it had a half-gallon of booze in it. We chatted about this and that, then he asked me, “Do you like Easter Island?”

“Um, I guess so. Is that a new restaurant around here?”

“No. You know, Easter Island?”

I hadn’t a clue. “Is that a code for anal sex or something?”

“Pffffft!!!” he sputtered. He pulled out a foot-tall moai made of volcanic rock. “This!”

It was one of those big heads popularized my Gary Larson in The Far Side. Nebacanoozer? “Oh! That! That’s from Pink Floyd’s Division Bell album cover.”

He shook his head, the one attached to his body. “Good lord, you really don’t know about Easter Island?…”

After more macho-hetero man-flirting, he wandered off. But not before presenting me with ‘the head’. I was now the proud owner of a large-shnozzed lawn ornament. Grinder and my trainee were impressed. Usually they are the ones doing the man-flirting. A few minutes later, a young lady dressed in a ’50s bobby-soxer dress came in. (She looked like a fancied-up Carol Burnett washerwoman.) As she walked away, I said “I like your outfit.” She blushed and thanked me. She left.

I looked over at Grinder. He teased, “‘Ooh, I like your outfit!’ That was so gay…”

At that moment one of the Bikini Baristas walked in. She was in uniform! My head snapped to the side. As soon as she wasn’t looking I licked my eyebrows like the Big Bad Wolf and said, “I don’t think so. I like her outfit too!”

I showed my head to anyone who would look, with suggestive innuendo included. That’s what got me thinking about what those little words that hold sentences together are called.

Subject? Predicate? No, that’s the head and torso of a sentence.

Later on, Milei came by. She no longer works with us, but stops by to say hi on her way home from night-school sometimes. Boss Whitney wouldn’t schedule us together, because after half an hour the room would get so blue and tawdry we’d all be needing cold showers. The girl has the mind of a pubescent teenage boy, which is probably why we get along so well.

“You look nice tonight, ” I told her. She did look nice. Her skin was glowing, and not because of too much tequila. “Whazzup? You just get some?” I winked.

“Why thank you,” she came back, batting her eyes in Southern Belle fashion. “No honey, I’ve been good. You?”

“Nope. It’s been a lonesome summer, if you get my drift.”

“Poor thing. ” She patted my hand. She helped with training for a few minutes. I showed her my head, then it was time to go. “Give me hugs,” she said.

I gave her a big squeeze. “Dang, you smell good!”

She gave me a funny look. “I don’t know why.” She sniffed her hair. “Conditioner?”

I sniffed her hair, then ran the tip of my nose from her clavicle up behind her ear, tickling with my beard. “Nope, it’s your skin. You smell girly. And hot…”

“Maybe it’s the sun. I laid out in the sun today…”

“You’re redder than you were a minute ago,” I teased.

“I’m not blushing, and I have the tan lines to prove it.”

“Okay, prove it.”

She turned around, stuck her butt out at me and said, “Go ahead.” I pulled her belt out, gave the tag on her panties just enough of a tug to hint at a wedgie, then took a peek. I didn’t see a tan line, but said “Ver-ry nice-uh…” anyway. I gave her cheeks a squeeze and a friendly pat, then walked her to the bus stop. The trainee could handle it alone that long.

Dangling participle? (Not at that moment, tee hee.) I always cracked up when I heard English teachers use that phrase. What are those words called?

Finally, the day came to an end. I put my stone head in a double plastic bag. Bums might think I was packing around a forty, but if they tried scamming on it they would awaken with a headache worse than alcohol-induced. “Wanna get stoned?” Thwack! “There ya go!”

I showed my head to my fellow commuters. When I arrived home, my nephew asked what was in the bag. I showed him.

“Easter Island. Cool! Can I have it?”

Motherfucker! Does everyone know about Easter Island but me?

I’d have pulled out Pink Floyd’s Division Bell, but that reminds me of the English major. (I’ve been trying not to think about her too much…) I went to Wikipedia and learned all about Rapa Nui, and moais. But I’m not ready for an English lesson just yet.

Perennium? Is that what they’re called? My kingdom for a friendly perennium right now!

Google, here we come…

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