Tyrone the Houseguest
Tyrone is my new houseguest, and I believe he has Pepe in a twist. Tyrone is not blind so I will not talk about his pelvis, which isn't bulgy anyway. Oh. My apologies. Tyrone would like me to take that back, he insists his pelvis is bulgy, but in a very good way.
Tyrone is my friend so I do not peek at him through the refrigerator. Though he has been my Bikram instructor, and therefore I have seen him in skimpy clothing, I honestly have not peeked. Tyrone is my friend. He is my houseguest only because there are 24 inches of snow outside, not because he was put out of other lodging in the cold of December. He is always welcome here. He is Fun in a Snowstorm. FIAS.
Today we made Jazz Hands cookies and ate soup and bread. I looked up and caught Pepe peeking at us through the crack between the refrigerator door and the box, but of course Pepe is blind. I don't know why he bothered. I asked him to join us, even to decorate cookies in his own, Braille-infused way, but he just sidled out of the room, blushing like a girl, tittering like a fool, and ambling like a crab. Sideways. If only Pepe could see himself, he would know how ridiculous he looks behaving like that. Just sit down and have some soup Pepe, Tyrone will not bite you!
I believe if I had told Pepe that Tyrone would bite him, he would have been at the table lickety split. How he knows that Tyrone is 6'4" and looks like Mr. Clean is beyond me. Perhaps the blind use a particular proprioceptive process to discern the heights and girths of those who are speaking.Using this logic: Tyrone's voice falls from above=tall. Tyrone's voice is resonant like a bell=powerfully built.
There are also these Mr. Clean-like aspects of Tyrone: Black, double earrings, shaved head. So, though I do not believe Pepe has felt Tyrone, he clearly knows. And he is blind, so there are other sensors at work.
Frankly, it intrigues me. Pepe grows more outrageously mysterious day by day. And his subwaist/superthigh fermentation process continues. I believe now that some of the bulginess is gaseous, rather than solid. An emission of his yeasty regions. I find myself wondering if his jeans will explode like a soda bottle left in a hot car, or if his skin will rise like dough, puffing him up...a blind Violet Beauregarde...
If Tyrone is trapped here again tomorrow, we are planning on writing the score for our show: The Tip Tap Trifecta & Cavalcade. When Pepe hears the music, he will not be able to resist joining in. And then our show will have not only horses, leprauchauns, **jazz hands** and fanfare, but also a rolly polly blind man tittering, tottering and sidling like a crab. Mayhem will ensue. Hilarity. Hijinx. A show for all ages, performed by land and by sea, in retirement homes and elementary schools. Around the globe.
And if Tyrone is trapped again the day following, we will formalize our plans for world domination; Tyrone has a Mac.
Tyrone is my friend so I do not peek at him through the refrigerator. Though he has been my Bikram instructor, and therefore I have seen him in skimpy clothing, I honestly have not peeked. Tyrone is my friend. He is my houseguest only because there are 24 inches of snow outside, not because he was put out of other lodging in the cold of December. He is always welcome here. He is Fun in a Snowstorm. FIAS.
Today we made Jazz Hands cookies and ate soup and bread. I looked up and caught Pepe peeking at us through the crack between the refrigerator door and the box, but of course Pepe is blind. I don't know why he bothered. I asked him to join us, even to decorate cookies in his own, Braille-infused way, but he just sidled out of the room, blushing like a girl, tittering like a fool, and ambling like a crab. Sideways. If only Pepe could see himself, he would know how ridiculous he looks behaving like that. Just sit down and have some soup Pepe, Tyrone will not bite you!
I believe if I had told Pepe that Tyrone would bite him, he would have been at the table lickety split. How he knows that Tyrone is 6'4" and looks like Mr. Clean is beyond me. Perhaps the blind use a particular proprioceptive process to discern the heights and girths of those who are speaking.Using this logic: Tyrone's voice falls from above=tall. Tyrone's voice is resonant like a bell=powerfully built.
There are also these Mr. Clean-like aspects of Tyrone: Black, double earrings, shaved head. So, though I do not believe Pepe has felt Tyrone, he clearly knows. And he is blind, so there are other sensors at work.
Frankly, it intrigues me. Pepe grows more outrageously mysterious day by day. And his subwaist/superthigh fermentation process continues. I believe now that some of the bulginess is gaseous, rather than solid. An emission of his yeasty regions. I find myself wondering if his jeans will explode like a soda bottle left in a hot car, or if his skin will rise like dough, puffing him up...a blind Violet Beauregarde...
If Tyrone is trapped here again tomorrow, we are planning on writing the score for our show: The Tip Tap Trifecta & Cavalcade. When Pepe hears the music, he will not be able to resist joining in. And then our show will have not only horses, leprauchauns, **jazz hands** and fanfare, but also a rolly polly blind man tittering, tottering and sidling like a crab. Mayhem will ensue. Hilarity. Hijinx. A show for all ages, performed by land and by sea, in retirement homes and elementary schools. Around the globe.
And if Tyrone is trapped again the day following, we will formalize our plans for world domination; Tyrone has a Mac.
you ate cookies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ReplyDeleteYes. Yes I did. It was one of those times when I had to ask, "Is this something I will ever get again...**jazz hands** cookies, trapped in a snowstorm with Tyrone Russell?" And the answer was no. "Is this something you will regret passing up?" And the answer was yes.
ReplyDeleteSo I ate them.
I believe that is the gauge we must use to measure the worth of our decisions. I believe I chose wisely.
Don't you?
very!
ReplyDelete