Just Hanging in the CCF
Latigo Flint's chaps need re-stitching and Latigo Flint doesn't like telling stories without them. Shouldn't take more than a day or two to repair. In the meantime, I saw a couch this afternoon and it reminded me of better days.
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From the Archives, 01-27-05:
Just Hanging in the CCF
Through a bizarre statistical oddity, Latigo Flint's cute neighbor has walked up to his open apartment door exactly three times for various reasons over the past year, and all three times she's happened to catch Latigo Flint in the process of building and/or playing in a giant Couch Cushion Fort.
The disappointing part is that of course she doesn't know it's a bizarre statistical oddity - See, Latigo Flint knows that as a point of fact, those three were the only occasions, and with a very good reason for each. (Equal parts nostalgia and turpentine huffing.) But as far as she knows, this occurs 100% of the time, and must therefore believe Latigo Flint to be completely insane.
It didn't help matters that on the third and final occasion, Latigo Flint had his back to the door and didn't notice that she was observing his entire impassioned speech to the garrison's besieged troops (as played by silverware, several rolls of socks, a Woody from Toy Story doll and a Jeremiah Johnson DVD).
She must have taken an uneasy step back when the speech climaxed with a string of shouted oaths and Native American based racial slurs, for her shirtsleeve brushed audibly against the screen door. Mentally frozen in the humiliation of discovery, Latigo Flint could only think to offer her a sniff of turpentine... which she declined.
When Latigo Flint sprinted for the bathroom to obscure his complete nudity is when she made her hasty retreat. And I presume dialed Mayflower Moving Company only a minute or two later, 'cause the truck got there awfully fast.
The disappointing part is that of course she doesn't know it's a bizarre statistical oddity - See, Latigo Flint knows that as a point of fact, those three were the only occasions, and with a very good reason for each. (Equal parts nostalgia and turpentine huffing.) But as far as she knows, this occurs 100% of the time, and must therefore believe Latigo Flint to be completely insane.
It didn't help matters that on the third and final occasion, Latigo Flint had his back to the door and didn't notice that she was observing his entire impassioned speech to the garrison's besieged troops (as played by silverware, several rolls of socks, a Woody from Toy Story doll and a Jeremiah Johnson DVD).
She must have taken an uneasy step back when the speech climaxed with a string of shouted oaths and Native American based racial slurs, for her shirtsleeve brushed audibly against the screen door. Mentally frozen in the humiliation of discovery, Latigo Flint could only think to offer her a sniff of turpentine... which she declined.
When Latigo Flint sprinted for the bathroom to obscure his complete nudity is when she made her hasty retreat. And I presume dialed Mayflower Moving Company only a minute or two later, 'cause the truck got there awfully fast.
posted by Latigo Flint @ 10:54 PM
7 comments
7 Comments:
Whatever you do, DON'T go to "Little Jimmy's Chap Repair and Liquor Store", they boast that they are the chap repair choice of the stars. And we all know Latigo Flint wouldn't allow himself to be lured into a lurid satan's den such as that.
Mr. Flint, I urge you to view the Philip Seymour Hoffman obscurity (film) "Love Liza." It may just scare you straight off the turpentine (and who knows, the cushion fort building too maybe).
Also, when your chaps are in working order, do you wear them dungaree-less, David Lee Roth style?
So I've been keeping up with Latigo Flint since late January? Wow. Time flies. Three months. That was the first one I read.
How about letting Kid Relish pinch hit for you? Or even bribing the Starbucks barista into doing an entry?
I'm going into rawhide withdrawal over here...
May the stiches to your chaps come strong and swift.
Ah, I remember this classic well.
Heck no Dave. Never. I ship my chaps to an old Chilean woman in a tiny village in the Andes whenever they need to be repaired. Incredible leathersmiths those Chileans.
Ari, where do you think I got the idea?! I simply replaced remote controlled vehicles with couch cushion forts.
Steve, I hope you've had as good a time reading mine as I have yours these three months past. (What say a toast to the Boston Sports Guy now, hey?)
Lance, the Kid despises webloging. The cute Starbucks cashier reaches for her mace whenever I enter. I'm afraid you're gonna have to ride the trail with me.
Thank you Amandarama.
And you LBB.
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