From Music Central: A story by Rudy.
Once again, I have received the catalyst to enable me to tell you of another funny tale. This one was sparked by Stanley's (the beemer dude's) input. This story is about a squirt gun.
On Thursday nights, Fran and I would play at a bar in Ct. The stage was wide but thin (from front to back). Fran and I played as a duo. She played guitar, banjo, and sang. I played guitar, dobro, and sang.
I also did a segment where she played guitar and sang while I played bass lines on the Moog synthesizer. During her four songs, I would sit on a little stool while playing those bass lines. I was hidden from the audience at that time, because of the configuration of the stage.
After a couple of weeks, I thought I would have some fun during this particular point in our show.
Any of you who have read the Blue Bird thread may remember my story about being in the air vents and blowing the whistle during basketball games. Well, being the jokester that I am, I figured that I would bring a squirt gun to the gig.
I never told Fran about my plans. That would have given me away. Well, I only needed one hand to play the bass lines on the keyboard. I noticed that by sitting where I was while she was singing, that nobody in the audience could see me.
So I got this fun idea to bring a squirt gun to the gig. I could see the people in the front row. So while I am playing the keyboard, I would squirt people in the front row one or two times during the course of one of the songs that she was singing.
It was such fun. Inevitably, everyone who got blasted in the face by me thought that it was someone sitting near them who had spilled or thrown a drink at them. I laughed every time. Some times, I could barely keep playing the bass lines.
One time, it almost started a brawl because this one guy was convinced that the guy at the table next to him had tried to start a fight by throwing a drink in his face. OH WHAT FUN!!!
Reminds me of a time in the ancient past when my wife was on the facutly of a college. Because of her job, we had to attend a banquet of some kind. This was in the days of streaking and general mayhem.
As we set eating at the table for all the college faculty and bigwigs, I had a good view of the front door of the hall that was actually on a lower level. Our part of the table was angled such that I had a pretty good view of all the faculty too. I saw the door open and a young man quietly sneak in and proceed to throw 2 or 3 eggs in quick succession up into the air in a large arc aimed at the faculty table. Before the eggs landed he left quickly without seeing what kind of mayhem his eggs might cause. Too bad!
One of eggs went high and struck a large beam directly over the Vice president for student affairs, a person who was not overly popular due to his job duties. The raw egg broke and dripped down directly onto his bald head, a direct bull's eye!
Of course he was surprised, and turned to his wife and others trying to figure out where this raw egg yolk came from. He never did look up or figure it out! I of course saw the whole thing unfold, and was about to lose it, it was so funny. And the kid who had launched the eggs did not even get to see what happened.
As his wife helped him wipe away the mess on the top of his head, the front door swung open and in ran a couple of buck naked guys except for thier wool face mask hats. They ran silently thru the hall and out a back door. This of course was immensely funny to me, and on top of the egg incident I thought I would maby have to leave the place to be able to control my laughing which was beginning to embarrass my wife who had not witnessed the egg throwing episode.
Ah, the good old days!
Another fun trick I used to do was this. That is to smash instruments on a stool. Let me give you the scenario.
On the weekends, I would go to flea markets in search of cheap and unplayable instruments. They were usually guitars or mandolins. At that time, I could get them for five or ten dollars.
On this caper, Fran was aware of my ploy. By the way, we were a hot duo and always got the audience fired up. So, I would wait until the crowd was really roaring (usually the third set when they were all boozed up)and then I would pull this trick on them.
I would make sure to have a wooden stool in front of me. Right after Fran and I had finished a rip-roarin' song, I would pick up my flea market instrument and say "All right, let's go!!"
So we would light off on to another song. About five seconds into it I would stop us both and say to the audience, "Oh sorry, I gotta tune this thing". So I would pretend to tune it.
Now, off we go again, and the audience did not think anything of that little delay, and they are now exuding the excitement from all the powerhouse playing we have been doing all night.
BUT WAIT!! Another ten seconds goes by, and I do the same thing and stop the song and apologize for not having this instrument in tune. At this point, I can here some hems and haws from the audience.
I know that their patience is getting low. They must be thinking, why can't this guy tune that thing? Well, being the BIG JOKESTER guy that I am, I dare to do this procedure two more times.
By this time, I am hearing much cussing, and people yelling PLAY THE F...ing song!!!. It is then that I say F..k it, and smash the instrument on the stool in front of me. That stunt ALWAYS brought the house down. OH WHAT FUN!!!
OK, One more. There was a very fancy restaurant in Woodstock, called the Bald Hill. It was the kind of place where you wore a suit and tie to go dine. Glen, the guitarist and singer, and John, the bass player, were hired to play the one time a year that the restaurant had live music.
That was the week before Christmas. Every year there would be a third member of the band invited to play. One year, it was my turn to play guitar and sing with them.
We got paid well and as a bonus, we were invited to each bring a guest and have a dinner a few weeks later. I had invited a girlfriend as both Glen and John had.
We went to the place, and actually got dressed up better than we were when we played the gig. The restaurant was packed (as always). I ordered roast duck. It came with au gratin pototoes and peas.
I must say now that the peas are the center of this story. So, everyone has their meal in front of them now, and there are a few bottles of wine on the table as well. We begin eating and enjoying the high life.
Well, being the jokester that I am, I get this real fun idea. I think to myself, how far could I launch a pea with a spoon? Naturally, I did not tell anyone at the table of my plans. So I begin my aerial attack.
I load a pea onto a spoon and fling it discreetly. It was fun to see them flying through the air. I was aiming at people. It took ten minutes, however, before I connected.
Finally, I hit a target. Here is this old guy in a tuxedo enjoying a wonderful meal with his family and grandchildren, when out of nowhere a green pea hits him on the cheek and explodes in a green mush.
I must say that that is probably the funniest thing I have ever seen. Of course, no one at my table knew anything about it. It is a shame that I could not share with them my fun game.
I knew if I told them, they would give me away just by the mere fact that they would have been looking and laughing. Of course I laughed at the whole thing, but nobody knew what I was laughing at.
DB, That is some funny stuff. I must reciprocate.
It was three in the morning. I was overseas in the military. There were four chow halls on the base. Only one was open at this time.
I had just come off a two day card playing gambling spree. I got myself something to eat. I like mayonnaise, so I had a few packets to put on my eggs. I was sitting alone about twenty feet away from some "mega-striped" sergeants who were wearing their dress blues.
I was fairly delirious from coming off my gambling spree. About half way through my breakfast, I began fondling one of these packets of mayonnaise. I thought to myself, I wonder how far this mayonnaise would travel if I squeezed the packet real hard.
So, I took aim and squeezed it quickly. I had time to see the blob fly through the air and land right on one of the sergeant's lapels of his nice dress blues.
What a look of surprise he had. Too bad that I did not get to see the reactions of his table mates. I instantaneously ducked under the table I was sitting at, and for sure thought that I would be caught because of my uncontrollable laughter.
I actually crawled out of the chow hall on my hands and knees being careful to not be spotted by those "higher-ups". I escaped successfully. The bummer thing, though, was that I did not get to finish my breakfast.
Rudy, your story about the mayonaise reminds me of an incident that happened at the St Louis Zoo when I was about 13.
My grandmother had come to visit, and we took her to the zoo one Sunday. The Zoo was full of visitors, it was a hot, humid spring day. My grandma could not walk long, so she was riding in a wheel chair and I was pushing her around.
We were outdoors looking at some animal exhibit, and as I stood there behind her wheelchair I looked down and there was a ketchup packet. Bored as I was, it looked like something to occupy my mind as I wondered how far it would squirt if I carefully stepped on it with my shoe. I did not realize there was an enormous heavy set lady standing next to us, and as I pressed down on the packet it finally broke but at an upright angle, which caused the ketchup to squirt up her leg.
She squeeled loudy and I looked up to see her as I realized what had happened. She began to loudly whine that I had "squirted her up her dress"! And then she pulled up her skirt and demanded that I wipe her leg off. I was mortified- I was sure every cute girl was watching me and thinking what an idiot I was.
My grandmother pulled out a hankerchief and gave it to me, and there I was in front of all those people wiping off this lady's huge thigh and calf. I think it scarred and emotionally crippled me for life!
But every time I see a loose packet of mayonaise or ketchup on the ground I still can't help but wonder- if I step very slowly just how far will it squirt?
I was looking at the turkey in the tree photo and I noticed that there are actually two of them up there. Look to the left of center and you can see the other one.
Now, I want to tell you about when I was attacked by a very large turkey. I will preface by saying that I have been bitten by a dog, kicked in the chest by a goat ( that one knocked the wind out of me, and nearly broke a rib), charged by a 600lb boar, charged by a large deer, charged by a rather large cow, and splashed by a beaver while I was in a canoe on a moonlit night. That beaver almost tipped the canoe over.
Well, let's get back to the turkey attack. I was living in Connecticut and working as a carpenter. I was going to visit Tim, who I learned a great deal about all phases of the work from. Tim had some farm animals.
Some of them were white turkeys that he raised for meat.
OH, just a little side note before I progress with the turkey story. I mentioned earlier in this thread about another friend's three guard geese. They were very territorial. Whenever I visited him, they would greet me in a non friendly manner. One time, one of them bit my pant leg. Fortunately, It did not have teeth like a dog does.
So let's get back to the turkeys. Apparently, they become territorial as well. At Tim's house, there were six white turkeys. One of those turkeys had not been slaughtered the year before, so it grew to be an enormous creature. It stood at least 2 1/2 feet tall and probably weighed 50lbs.
Well, I get out of the van, and I see, about twenty feet away that this "Monster Turkey" and the five smaller ones in back of it start waddling in my direction. I did not think much of it, as I had never been attacked by a turkey before.
So I watch with curiosity as they keep forging forward. Now the strangest thing happens to the lead turkey. All of a sudden, his whole head goes from a red color to black. Then an even weirder thing happens. A noodle type appendage grows out from it's forehead and then dangles down several inches in between it's eyes.
Actually it was quite alarming and grotesque at the same time. While all this is happening, The "big guy" keeps on advancing towards me while his clan waddle along behind him. Now the "bad boy" is two feet in front of me looking like something out of a Clive Barker movie, and what does he do?
He spreads out his wings and jumps at me. Instinctively, I turn to the side and he bounces off of my hip and falls down onto the ground. I look at his followers and they stopped their advance.
Well, wouldn't you know it, as soon as the "warrior" regains his balance, he makes another leap at me. This time I was prepared. I figured he did not have too many attack strategies.
So I stood face to face with the ugly creature and waited until he was two feet in the air and I kicked him as hard as I could in the chest. This time, he didn't just fall down, he went rolling back about five feet.
I then looked into his tiny black eyes and asked him if he wanted more. At that point I figured that he was embarrassed, so he turned around and all those stupid creatures waddled away.
Fact is stranger than fiction.
Hi Rudy, interesting story about the attack tom turkey. I have not had (fortunately) as much experience with this sort of bird as you. I do know a little about them though.
The head changing colour is an emotional reaction, tom's heads will go from pale red to dark blue when excited or angered. The "noodle" is his comb (similar to a rooster's). It's always there, only more prominent when his head darkens. He attacked with his wings and feet, typical for many larger yard fowl.
Years ago, we had a large Embden (white) gander named Sarge. He was quite the asshole and the way I treated him never improved our relationship.
Almost every day when I came home from work, Sarge would charge me when I entered the yard. I quickly learned the best thing to do was grab, then sit on him (not my total weight, that would be too much) and proceed to dutch rubs (goose noogies).
While doing this, his eyes went from deep azure blue to dark red (he was really pissed off). I would then throw him out from under me. As soon as he hit the ground, he would pirouette, throw his wings out, start hissing and honking loudly.
But he never came around for seconds on the same day. Eventually he got me though. One day I entered the yard with my hands full, he realized right away that opportunity was knocking his door down. He ran up and latched on to my shoe (I'm glad I was wearing shoes). Raised a huge bruise on my foot. Fair play I guess.
Wow, there is a lot going on here, with all this work and stuff. I'm gonna take a break and tell you of a funny incident.
To begin with, it was my dad who was always the disciplinarion in the family. The rules were clear, even for my mom. It was very rare that she ever raised her voice, much less, that she actually scolded either my brother or me.
There was this one day, however, that I happened to walk in the kitchen and saw an opportunity to have a little fun (at my brother's expense). I was amazed to see my mom pointing at my brother, Phil, and actually screaming at him vehemently. It was so uncharacteristic of her.
Well, Phil saw me enter. He had a look of terror on his face. I was to the back of my mom, so she did not know that I had entered the kitchen.
It just so happens that I had been presently eating a bag of Cheetos. So, I got this great idea! I'll hide behind my mom (who still doesn't see me) and stick two Cheetos in my nostrils, and two of them out of my ears.
It wasn't as easy as it sounds to put them things there. All right, so now I wait for the perfect moment, when my brother is at the height of his terror, and I pop up to look at him, with the adornments in my orifices.
What does he do? He bursts out laughing!!! Boy, that pissed my mother off!!! He points at me and says, it was HIM! Of course, I was very adept at removing the Cheetos, and just stood there eating them with a completely innocent face.
Gee, I just got a request for a funny anecdote. So here it is: When I was in high school, I stole the janitor's large key ring off his desk. Naturally, that gave me access to anywhere in the school.
Once the neighborhood kids figured out that I could open the gym on Saturdays, we all would go play basketball. It worked for a long time.
But that is not the story I want to tell you about. This is it. Having the ability to go anywhere, I started exploring the whole building. I found a room that had a bunch of big air vents in it.
I started crawling around in them and discovered some secret areas. One of them was a vent to the gym. It was very near to the ceiling. It was probably 25 feet up. It was way above the bleachers.
Well, for two years, I had some of the biggest laughs of my youth. You see, I would crawl up in to that vent during basketball games between our high school and other high schools.
So, I'd watch the game for a while, and then (only once or twice a game) I would wait for the opposing team to throw a basket and I would blow the whistle that I would carry with me, just as the guy was going for the basket.
Naturally, he would turn and look at the referee. The ref. would look at him, then the ref (knowing that he did not blow the whistle) would look into the bleachers.
Of course, he never found anyone in the bleachers blowing an unauthorized whistle. That's because it was me hidden in the air vent way above.
Yeah, I did this for two years, and laughed heartily every time. How I got away with it is, I NEVER told anyone that I was doing this, and I never gave away my position, because I never blew that whistle more than twice during any game.
Maybe, you would like to hear another story? Oh! You would? Great. Here it is. It is similar to the air vent story, but this time I am underground in the drainage vents from the street.
I had this crazy idea of getting some "hip boots" (like the fly fisherman wear). I had a special plan for those boots. I had found a way into the many concrete ducts that make up the rain drain system.
Naturally, I begin to explore. I notice manhole areas perhaps 150 feet apart. What's really cool, when you are in a 150 foot concrete tunnel, is to yell, and then listen to the natural echo and reverb from the response.
Getting back to my plan, I went to several manhole covers and tried to lift a few. Some were lighter than others. I found one that was way too heavy for someone to lift (from the outside) without proper tools.
Then I waited for people to walk by that manhole. I must say, at this point, I did get some pretty good views out of those little holes in the manhole cover.
Now, the fun starts. People walk by, and I yell out to them. Of course, 90% of the people never figured out where the sound was coming from. It is the other 10% of people that make this story fun.
They were the ones who realized that someone was under that manhole cover. Most of them laughed at the whole preposterousness of it all.
There was one guy, however, that really sticks out, in my mind. That was the guy who decided that I shouldn't be having that much fun and began to give me a hard time and threatening to call the police.
Well, his tauntings brought on mine. I said everything I could to get this guy angry. What REALLY pissed him off was when he stuck his fingers in the holes, trying to lift the cover. That was because I kept hitting his hands with a stick.
Keep in mind, that this is in broad daylight. So, after exchanging a few more unpleasantries, he does what (I thought) was the perfect retaliation. YES, FOLKS, he whips it out and pees in the manhole cover holes. I am sure that he was very frustrated at that point, especially since all I had to do was move a few feet to avoid the "golden shower".
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