Have a Very Beary Day (Chapter 4: Guilty As Charged)

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Apparently the 227 in progress at the Mrs. Fields kiosk kept the law dogs at bay. In fact it appears the situation escalated to a standoff, for as we were pulling out, we were passed in the other direction by two city bicycle cops hurriedly peddling back to the mall, each with a half gallon of milk. It was nice to see two local law agencies working together, communicating, and sharing the responsibility needed to bring a tense situation to an abrupt end. I unwrapped and pulled out my Ding Dong and raised it up to honor these fearless community servants.

“Here’s to the men and women who tirelessly man the malls of our great capitalist nation everyday, preserving our rights to giant cookies, Icees, and the pursuit of corndogs.”

I turned back to my nephew to include him in this vaulted tribute but found out he had already honored our heroes in his own way, by smearing chocolate cake and hydrogenated crème filling all over his shirt, pants, face and hands. Since when did hostess start putting grenades in their snackcakes? I thought for a moment that perhaps the shopkeeper had put an exploding device in the ding-dongs in case they ended up in the wrong hands. But that would be too brilliant, no one could have masterminded such a perfect defense system. It was clearly evident by the fudgey fingerprints on my cell phone that my nephew had the etiquette of a badly mannered caveman.

“Hey Wyok, NO. Your Unco Onionok no likey you wear your food and smear it around in his cave with wings.”

“OOO OOO OOO, but it so goo...it very goo Unco Onionok…OOO OOO…me cannot help it…Wyok love cakey ”

I tried to speak his language but it wasn’t working. So I went back to addressing him like every other calm, rational human being on the planet that spends two minutes with him and started yelling.

“IF YOU IN SO MUCH LAY A FINGER ON MY FANCY LEATHER CARSEATS I WILL PERSONALLY HANG YOU BY YOUR THUMBS, DOUSE YOU IN MOUNTAIN DEW, AND LET THE HUMMINGBIRDS PECK AWAY AT YOUR SWINGING CARCASS UNTIL THERE IS NOTHING LEFT BUT A PINATA OF UNDER-DEVELOPED BONES. DO YOU HEAR ME???”

“Hahahahaha! You funny, Uncle Onionhead. Hahahaha!”

Damn. Why doesn’t he take me seriously? Then I started thinking. Why doesn’t my family take me seriously? Why didn’t my ex-girlfriend take me seriously, even in bed when I talked in my best Barry White voice? Why doesn’t my boss take me seriously, or my friends, or road construction crews, or puppeteers? Why? Why? Why?

“Uncle Onionhead. I’m sorry. I won’t touch nuthin’. I promise.”

Validation. Right then and there he gave me more respect than I’ve ever heard him give anyone. You know, the kid was no dummy, he just has some excitability issues. I started reflecting on my days of falling asleep in the back of Psychology 101 and deduced that perhaps he suffered from some subconscious self-fulfilling prophecy. He came to school in the shadows of my 9-year old niece whom everybody just loves. She is a perfect student and he is, well, he is not. And all the teachers, and babysitters, and birthday party clowns are always warned ahead of time about what a handful he can be. Eureka! There’s no wonder he doesn’t settle down and act right – people don’t expect him too. They expect hell on wheels and that’s what he gives them. I decided as his uncle and his pal that I would start treating him with some respect and give him an opportunity to succeed instead of waiting for him to fail.

“There’s some tissues back here Uncle Onionhead, do you want me to clean up?”

See that, he wanted to clean himself up! He was a reasonable little human being after all, and not some tick-infested poop-flinging monkey boy.

“Yeah do the best you can champ. I’ll help you get the rest once we stop.”

The lawd really does work in mysterious ways because I didn’t remember having tissues in the backseat. The genie of the car lamp must have granted my first wish to protect my car from Ding-Dong residue. I figured it was best to hurry up and make wishes #2 and #3 before he escaped thru the sunroof. I looked over at my passenger seat several times but it remained empty. Where the hell was topless Christina Ricci holding a bottomless bucket of extra tasty crispy? Stupid fucking genie.

I snapped out of my daydreaming only to realize I was driving like Jeff Spiccoli looking for a pizza. What am I doing? Where am I going? Why are these penguins laughing at me? I had to get it together.

“Hey, bossman. Does your mom leave any of the doors unlocked at the house? We’ll need to get back there and clean you up and get you a change of clothes.”

“No, but Oscar will let us in.”

Oscar was the puppy my sister and her husband bought the kids outside of Home Depot one weekend. I wasn’t there that day, but I imagine the brother-in-law took advantage of the ad in the Sunday paper that read “Buy one laser level, a pile of aluminum siding and some deck board and get a FREE crossbred mutt with hip displosure.” Actually Oscar is a damn good dog, plus his handi-capable condition allows them to park in the premiere parking spots. But I think my nephew was over-estimating his abilities.

“Hmmm… I don’t think we should be disturbing Oscar right now since he is probably busy doing the laundry, fluffing the pillows, and cooking dinner for the family. A dog’s place is in the home you know.”

“You right Uncle Onionhead. We don’t wanna deturd him.”

“Yeah that too.”

There was really nowhere else to go but back to the school. His mom would have to figure something out because this responsibility thing was wearing on my last nerves. I decided to give her a heads-up call to let her know we were on our way back.

“Hey, I need to speak to Mrs. Checkan, please.” I looked in the rearview and my nephew was still wiping himself off, with balled up tissues everywhere, only he really wasn’t cleaning more than smearing it all over himself.

“Hey, Hey, Hey! Ok stop already with the tissues.”

“But I’m not clean yet.” he whined.

“Listen do you want a spanking?” I threatened.

“Sir…excuse me, sir!?” the lady on the line answered.

“O sorry…no I’m really sorry m’am, I wasn’t talking to you…Oh, Mrs. Checkan is busy right now…ummm…Ok, well just tell her that her brother is on his way back to school and that her son had an accident…OK bye.” Great now the school receptionist thinks I have an ass fetish. Between her and Principal Pissypants I guess I wouldn’t be getting any Man of the Year nominations from my sister’s school anytime soon.

“I don’t wanna go back to school,” my nephew whined again. “I didn’t poop in my pants. It was just a joke. Can we go back to Bidaber now?”

“Listen my little friend, I’m done foolin with you. Poop or no poop we are going back to the school. You can discuss the evidence and reasonable doubt with your mommy. This court is dismissed.”

He was silent for the next few miles. I looked in the rearview and he had little tears streaming down his fudge-smudged face. Damn. I was a bit hard on him. As soon as he heard we were going back to school he flipped his whole story around. It was obvious to me that he was scared that his mommy would be sore with him.

“Hey listen, bud. I’ll talk to your mommy, OK. She won’t be mad with you. I promise.”

“Really? You proooooomise?”

“Absolutely.”

“Pray to god and hope to die?”

“Yeah, yeah, whateva…”

“Thank you Uncle Onionhead. Hahahahaha! I did poop in my pants! POOPY POOPY POOPY, HAHAHAHA!”

Guilty as charged. No plea bargain. The deal was off. Let justice be served swiftly and severely.