Cap'n Skinnybones
After working a 12-hour shift at the office last night (covering for a sick co-worker, because I'm a hell of a guy), I got home dead tired, flopped exhaustedly into bed and was immediately struck with insomnia so powerful that it woke up my neighbors. Not that I don't enjoy watching King of the Hill reruns in the middle of the night, but still. It was roughly 3am before I finally beat my sleepless into submission and my slumber was fitful, dreamless and way too short.
So, needless to say, I woke up at 7 this morning in a mood most foul. Grrr, said I, to anyone who dared cross my path. Scowls all around.
That is, until I boarded the N train. That's when I saw him. Picture if you will, a small, elvin man, elderly, wearing light blue slacks and one of those white, too-thin, button up shirts that old men always wear. And he was wearing... (wait for it)... a Captain's hat! It looked like this:
...Only his brim was a jaunty blue and the whole thing was a bit worn, like he'd been wearing it for years. I have never, in all my years of being a bitter, cranky person, seen my mood lighten so quickly. Seeing this little dude sitting there, speaking Polish to a couple of old ladies like he wasn't wearing a Captain's hat all cool like, made my heart full-to-burstin' with an emotion I'm told is delight. I wanted to shake his hand, to pick him up and put him my pocket so I could carry him everywhere with me and have whimsical adventures. He's be my Lil' Captain Pal and I'd call him Cap'n Skinnybones!!!
Eventually, of course, I had to leave the train, and with it, Cap'n Skinnybones. But as the doors parted, I looked back to gaze one last time on his cheer-za-poppin' self, longing in my eyes and a weight settling already on my heart. He looked at me, he smiled and he winked, giving me a thumbs up. I started tap dancing and he flew around the subway car, trailing rainbows and winning lottery tickets in his path.
Even now, as I drink a Dr. Pepper and eat a bag of sour cream and onion chips for breakfast, I feel as if Cap'n Skinnybones is with me still. Watching over me. Forever my pal.
Thanks, Cap'n Skinnybones!!!
So, needless to say, I woke up at 7 this morning in a mood most foul. Grrr, said I, to anyone who dared cross my path. Scowls all around.
That is, until I boarded the N train. That's when I saw him. Picture if you will, a small, elvin man, elderly, wearing light blue slacks and one of those white, too-thin, button up shirts that old men always wear. And he was wearing... (wait for it)... a Captain's hat! It looked like this:
...Only his brim was a jaunty blue and the whole thing was a bit worn, like he'd been wearing it for years. I have never, in all my years of being a bitter, cranky person, seen my mood lighten so quickly. Seeing this little dude sitting there, speaking Polish to a couple of old ladies like he wasn't wearing a Captain's hat all cool like, made my heart full-to-burstin' with an emotion I'm told is delight. I wanted to shake his hand, to pick him up and put him my pocket so I could carry him everywhere with me and have whimsical adventures. He's be my Lil' Captain Pal and I'd call him Cap'n Skinnybones!!!
Eventually, of course, I had to leave the train, and with it, Cap'n Skinnybones. But as the doors parted, I looked back to gaze one last time on his cheer-za-poppin' self, longing in my eyes and a weight settling already on my heart. He looked at me, he smiled and he winked, giving me a thumbs up. I started tap dancing and he flew around the subway car, trailing rainbows and winning lottery tickets in his path.
Even now, as I drink a Dr. Pepper and eat a bag of sour cream and onion chips for breakfast, I feel as if Cap'n Skinnybones is with me still. Watching over me. Forever my pal.
Thanks, Cap'n Skinnybones!!!
posted by Clinton at 9:25 AM
4 Comments:
HA! You totally should have snatched him up. Joy like that must be shared! An not just with those lousy hooligans on the train!
Hiya from STL. My sis lives in Brooklyn..well, technically Bed-Stuy, but most people outside of NYC just say Brooklyn. Came by way of the Hater and your comment (The Ghoulish Rachel Ray and her baby-casserole recipes) made me giggle with such ferocity that I had to leave my cube, run to the bathroom and curl up ontop of the toilet, hugging myself, whispering, 'Its true! I can see it! She keeps putting paprika in the sauce! Paprika!'
Anywho, Sanity regained, count yourself one reader heavier.
um
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Excellent!
That's actually my plan... to continue mercilessly taunting Rachel Ray on blogs across the interweb until I've gotten a huge, angry following. Then we march!
I totally used to live in Bed-Stuy, by the way. It's um... an interesting neighborhood, to say the least.
Anyway, welcome to the family!
Yay for the Hater readers!! That guy sounds so cool! Lil' whimsical adventures...shoulda done it.
Does it make me a bad person that, despite how absolutely horrifying I find her, I'd still bang her like a toy drum in a shriner's parade if I could stick a blueberry almond muffin in her mouth and call her 'Yummo Pig'? There would have to be alchohol involved, of course, but still...Its like what the coach said about Dodgeball.
"If you want dodgeball victory you gotta grab it by its haunches and [humps air] h..h..hump it into submission."
Then, maybe I'd stop have the nightmares...
Um...have I said too much?
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