The Geezer sat on the seawall and I laid down on the dock in front of him. When I glanced up, I wished I hadn’t. To put it delicately, the combination of my position, the spread eagle “V” formed by the Geezer’s legs, and his loose fitting shorts and underwear, exposed his “family jewels.” The male human body lacks aesthetics in that region. This problem increases with age, and as I’ve told you, the Geezer “ain’t no spring chicken.” I laid my head on the planks, covered my eyes with my paws, and said, “Hey Geezer, give a girl a break. Your private parts are showing.”
I heard rustling as the Geezer said, “Sorry, girl. Is that better?”
I lifted a paw and confirmed the old boy had covered the view; one that would nauseate vomit. “Thank you,” I muttered in relief.
“No…, thank you, Sandy. It sure would embarrass me if someone else had been looking my way.”
The Geezer’s statement aroused my curiosity. I asked, “Geezer, tell me about the word embarrass. Do you know what its derivative is? I was just wondering if it had anything to do with having that part of the body exposed or something close to it. Like in “Mmmmm, bare ass.”
“I guess I should know that, being a writer and all, but to be honest, I don’t. Yours is a logical deduction, Sandy. A lot of situations that cause humans embarrassment are a result of being caught with their skirts up or pants down.”
“I thought so. Remember when Mrs. Zoomer’s bent over to pickup her hat and split her pants wide open? She kept saying, “I’m so embarrassed.” Her face turned the same color as a tomato and I’ve never seen a woman of that size move so swift and agile. Normally, she has the grace of an NFL offensive lineman in ballet class. She had underpants on even though they were sunk deep into the Grand Canyon. If she’d been sans panties I bet she’d have broken the world 100 meter record.” The recalled picture of the event caused this dog to laugh. The woman damn near spit out her false teeth she reacted so violently.
“That’s not very kind, Sandy,” the Geezer said in his most admonishing tone.
“Ohhh, Geezer I’ve heard you talk about Mrs. Zoomer’s Grand Canyon many times, and you have to admit she’s not going to win a dance contest that has any song playing other than the Baby Elephant Walk.”
The Geezer stood up, faced the Zoomers house, came to attention, and saluted smartly. “Sandy,” he said, “The Grand Canyon I refer to is the one located between Mt. Everest and Mt. McKinley on her chest. As far as her dancing ability, I can’t comment one way or the other. Mr. Zoomer’s doesn’t dance so I’ve never seen her shake that booty.”
“If she does, you can bet a seismograph is breaking somewhere.” The picture Geezer’s last statement brought to mind was Mrs. Zoomer’s waltzing with her husband. Poor man. His whole body could fit in the space between her mammeries with room for a dump truck thrown in. Mr. Zoomer’s bod was best described by Mrs. Gator when she remarked that, “At least they don’t have to worry about being locked out, Ben (Mr. Zoomer) can slide right under the door.”
We were getting away from my question. I decided to drag my buddy back to the topic even if he were kicking and screaming.
“Now, about my theory that the word embarrass comes from people being caught bare assed. Can you…”
The Geezer Gator interrupted me before I could finish my sentence. The thing that makes me maddest is he generally knows what I’m going to say. “There are many things that can embarrass humans other than being caught nude. Take the time Mrs. Gator told her friend Irene that the clothes Irene’s sister wore, and I quote, “Makes her look like she shops at a 2nd hand boutique for destitute clowns.” When Mrs. G. found out that Irene gave the dress in question to her sister, that was embarrassing.”
I finally understood why Irene gave Mrs. Gator that chocolate pie. The one which Irene put a bar of Ex-lax in its making and claimed it was accidental . The Geezer was babbling on in his antique logic and finally reclaimed my interest.
“Then there was the time when I was partying with a bunch of my work-mates sitting in our favorite bar. In walks this woman. One of the guy says, “See that gal?” He pointed to the curvy lady, “I used to screw her blue.” He went on to give vivid details of the gal’s anatomy, ability and stamina during sex, and ended with a Monica Lewinsky reference. He hadn’t noticed the thundercloud on one of our friend’s face. The reason was evident when the upset gentleman introduced the lady as his new bride. That was super emba–” I returned the favor by interrupting the Geezer.
“You’re proving my point; everything you’ve talked about is connected in some way to having a bare ass or covering it up.”
“Come on, Sandy.”
“No, really Geezer.”
The old boy said, “You know that’s not true.” I hate it when Geezer gets his, I know better than you ’cause I’m older and wiser, look.
“Okay, Geezer. I know how to settle this. Promise that if I ask you a question you’ll answer honestly and you’ll tell me the whole story.”
The Geezer lifted a brow and looked at me like I had a smelly dead fish draped over my snout. “Yeah, I promise.” He was wary and cautious.
“I want you to tell me the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you.”
The codger jerked back, contorted his face, and shook his head.
I reminded him, “You promised.”
He took a deep breath and said, “It was back several years ago. Mrs. Gator and I were leasing a 100 year old ranch house on 1,000 acres. Of course, the structure was built without modern tools that keep doors and windows square, floors level, and so on. The house was 1/4 mile off the road, guarded by a locked gate. I was coaching football at the time and Mrs. Gator borrowed the car to go shopping with some friends while I was at the school. One of my coaching buddies dropped me at my home after practice. It was at the farm lane gate I discovered I’d left my house keys in the car with Mrs. Gator. No problem. I climbed the gate and hoofed up the sand ruts to the house. I could wait outside; Mrs. G. would be home soon. About 2/3 of the way up the road, my lack of keys became more of a problem. Last night’s triple helping of chili had worked its way through my “bod” and was suggesting its emancipation. The urgency had become great by the time I twisted the door handle. It was securely locked. The old wooden Florida style house was built on pilings, but I could reach the windows in the living room if I stood on a 5 gallon pail. The cypress was old and rotten so I figured I could force the sash open. I found a screw-driver and, after a few seconds of prying, dislodged the latch holding the window down. I got the rickety window pushed up enough to crawl inside. After stepping up on the pail, I inserted my head and torso through the opening with my waist resting on the window sill. As I tried to wiggle through, my butt touched the window and it slammed down on my back. The sash wedged at an angle shackling me in place. There I was, pinned in the window, unable to move either way. Struggling to free myself resulted in kicking over the pail and that left me dangling in the opening, my full weight resting on my distended stomach. The urgency had become a full-fledged emergency. I writhed around trying to push the window up between stops for necessary tight cheek periods. Right before my capitulation to nature was eminent, the window popped lose from its jammed position and I slid backwards off of the sill, landing in a heap outside. I struggled to my feet. The emergency had become a 5 star, red, terrorist alert. There was no alternative. I dropped my drawers to my knees, assumed the position, and commenced fertilizing. It was then the car horn tooted. Mrs. Gator and 4 of her friends were leering and laughing at me from the Ford.”
I said, “See Geezer, I rest my case.” The old boy turned pink just talking about it. Humans are strange. I do that every day. After all, when you gotta go, you gotta go. Bare ass. Yep, that’s where the human word came from.
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