Tuesday, August 30, 2005

The World's Weariest

The other day my relatively trusty sidekick, Kid Relish, and I were sitting at the food court of our local outdoor shopping plaza discussing fatigue--levels of, its resultant effects, could it be quantified? That sort of thing.

We soon realized that somewhere, at this very moment, was a person who happened to be the most tired person in the world. We wondered who it was. Then the Kid decided it was him because he'd missed his afternoon nap.

"Why, but that's insane Kid!" I spluttered. "You honestly believe you're the weariest person in the world right now because you missed your afternoon nap?!!!"

Kid Relish tried to respond but his words were swallowed by a massive yawn. He pounded a fist on the table a couple times as if the yawn was coming dangerously close to choking the life out of him. He pointed at the yawn with his other hand. "See, see!" Said his insistent eyes.

I folded my arms into a surly set and waited for him to finish. Kid Relish stretched that one yawn into a ten-minute extravaganza--a head shaking, eye rolling, back arching spectacle. At one point, I think around minute seven, he assembled and self-applied a makeshift defibrillator using a discarded nine-volt battery and the wire from a stripped twist-tie. The implication being that the force of the yawn and its underlying fatigue had been extreme enough to temporarily stop his heart.

At last, with a twitching stretch and several lip smacks, the yawn ended. Kid Relish slumped in his chair and stared up at me through lidded eyes.
"Case closed, huh Latty? Have you ever seen a tireder person? I'm the most tiredest person ever."

I resisted the urge to club him to death.

The Kid glanced to the right. "Hey Latty, do you think that woman sitting over there would mind if I shuffled over, knelt in front of her and then just toppled forward and took a nap on her lap?"

"Oh hell Kid, suit yourself. I hope she clubs you to death."

But she didn't club him... she actually let him take a nap on her lap. She even stroked his matted brown hair while he slept.

The Kid's a menace--a threat to society of illogical proportions. Why is he so well liked by strangers? The same strangers who would mace me at the drop of a hat, or spur as it were.

Right about then I started to feel mighty tired.

11 Comments:

At 11:15 PM, Blogger Kid Relish said...

Her dress smelled like cantaloupe and springtime; I’ve never slept so fine. You’re just a grumpy jealous Latty.

 
At 1:14 AM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Don't labor too hard figuring why ladies let The Kid sleep on them. It's his boyhood. He's just not as intimidating as a tawny gunslinger.

The Kid reminds me of Andy Dick with a little coke in his system and a titanium pimpstick.

Incidentally, I hope the Dick comparison dosen't earn me the business-end of that titanium pimpstick.

 
At 2:33 AM, Blogger Amandarama said...

Maybe it's something in the Kid's pheremones?

 
At 10:39 AM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

This is really hard to imagine, but: Is there a chance that Kid Relish is prettier than you are? That would explain a lot. Well, that and the fact he still has all his spurs.

 
At 11:39 AM, Blogger MJ said...

This ample lap is open for naps, Latigo darling :-)

 
At 12:37 PM, Blogger tabitha jane said...

wow! he constructed a defibrilator? is the kid related to mcguiver in any way?

 
At 7:38 PM, Blogger Cindy-Lou said...

You guys are both welcome to nap on my lap but I might give you a wet willy.

 
At 11:30 PM, Blogger fourth_fret said...

That sounds like the kind of yawn that turns your head inside out. those are hard to reverse, by the way.

Don't worry Latigo, you'll find your lap someday.

 
At 12:38 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

Shut up Kid. No one likes you.

This is a brilliant comparison LBB, now that you mention it. (It's the lidded eyes and a next action that's wholly impossible to predict, isn't it?)

Well Amandarama, when female cats in the neighborhood go into heat, The Kid does grab them and rub them across his nipples... wait, but that still doesn't make any sense.

Kid Relish is one pretty, pretty young man Old Hoss. This much is certainly true. But more so than me with my squinty-eyes and lean, tawny limbs? How can this be?

I tend to drool and nose-whistle the choruses to Dwight Yoakam songs in my sleep MJ. Apparently it gets old in a hurry, like after a minute or two.

I highly doubt it actually worked Tabitha Jane. The Kid is a self-aggrandizing liar and a fraud. (Hmm... actually, he just may be related to MacGyver come to think of it.)

I'm not napping on anyone's lap if The Kid is also invited Cindy-Lou. The Kid is a lap-hog, and he snores!

Thank you Fourth-Fret. (You equal the second string open, you know.)

 
At 6:38 AM, Blogger Blog ho said...

sometimes a yawn like that will actually swallow an entire head. very dangerous.

 
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