Typically, when a coworker comes to me first thing in the morning with a ‘story’, I feign interest. I might smile and maybe even nod periodically as if listening intently to this intriguing yarn (much in the same way I read Zano posts).
This particular story caught my attention with its opening line of “Hey, I was pulled over this morning on my way in.” It seems as though said coworker was doing more than the posted top speed whilst going through a residential area. The local city constabulary is known to still be trying to figure out how the paper sack resists their efforts to punch through it, as it were, so I figure this story just might have some Discord-style yuck yucks attached to it. Little did I know…
The coworker’s tale:
“So there I was, up to my knees in Caribou dung, surrounded by a thousand Umbatzu tribeswomen naked to the waist.”
Sorry, that’s an old Wild Kingdom flashback. I still get those from time to time.
“So there I was, minding my own business, blowing through some apartment complexes, when all of a sudden I hear a siren and see the flashing lights in my mirror. I pull over to the side of the road and proceed to get my stuff out of my wallet. I even leave the seatbelt on, and you know how hard it is to get your wallet out of yer back pocket with the damn belt on!”
I am injecting a quick note that will prove important as we proceed. You see, a very large squash is sitting next to my coworker on the front seat of his pickup. To us Itralians, the word we use to describe a very large squash, or a very stupid person, is ‘Googootz’.
“So this cop walks up to my window and says the usual license registration and proof of insurance number and I start handing him my stuff.
He then says to me kinda quick-like ‘Do you have any guns, knives, sharp objects, illegal narcotics, open beer or liquor bottles, hypodermic needles, Googootz, or any other items which I might need to know about?’”
At this point I would like to add another tidbit to this story. My coworker is Montana ex-Mormon. He can count on one hand the number of Italian-Americans he has talked to in his entire life.
“So I’m all nervous-like and just say no. I didn’t really listen all that well to his question. So he repeats it and I again says’ no. He then asks me to ‘step out of the truck please.’ As I step out of the truck, I’m trying to figure out just what pissed this guy off. Ah mean, I got the new mufflers and they ARE a bit loud, and the tires are big, but they fit within the width of the truck.”
Then the officer said, “Sir, you told me you had none of the items I asked about, and I see one of them as big as life on your front seat.”
He then points to my coworker’s big assed squash. At this point, fellow Discordians, I am laughing about as hard one can internally while trying to keep a poker face on the outside. Tears start to well in my eyes as I watch my friend all red-faced and twitchy continue describing his ordeal:
“Just how the crystallized-f%^& was I supposed to know it’s a goo-whatever-the-f&*^ing goonie goo goo? I’m about to pass out when he smiles and says he was talking about the squash. He just told me to slow the hell down when going through this area, and to have a nice day, the little prick.”
As I can no longer hold it in, I burst out laughing. He then hands me the biggest Googootz I have seen in a quite a googootsin long time. He tells me it was hiding in his garden, and he wanted to know if I liked squash.
I said, “No, but I do appreciate a Googootz like you.”
Normally, this would mark the end our tale, but I brought the protagonist of our story home that day but I left it in the Ram overnight. The next morning, after my wife left for work, I saw it sitting on the passenger seat, so I brought it in and put in on the kitchen counter and headed to work. Later that day, after it got dark, I get this phone call from my wife…a rather irate wife.
“What the hell is this friggin’ Googootz doing on the counter?! It’s dark in here when I get home and all I see in the glow of the street light coming through the window…to me it looked like a friggin’ baseball bat sitting on the counter! I damn near called the cops!”
All’s I could think is this same cop would respond and, having had enough, would haul the thing downtown for questioning.
My wife continued, “I thought there was somebody in the house, maybe a burglar or something. Scared the shit out of me. It wasn’t until I put on the lights that I saw this friggin’ Googootz staring at me.”
My wife made both my coworker and I some really nice Zucchini bread. But, sadly, she doesn’t like squash anymore.
Googootz night and Googootz luck
The Crank
