Not much a person wants to do on these hot July afternoons. I spent some time on the neighbors porch this week doing not much at all.
It's hard to list all the great things Tater has done since she rescued Meat from himself seven years ago. But near the top is installing the ceiling fans on the front porch. Makes even the hottest day bearable with the right hydration.
That's because the two fans she hung spin with enough power to lift the roof if it weren't anchored down by the rest of the house. They create enough breeze to blow untethered furniture and small children off the sides of the porch.
I should note the small children claim is more of a prediction than an observed phenomenon like the furniture. No one we know is crazy enough to bring small children to Meat & Tater's.
Anyway, it's been seven years since Tater found Meat letting the air out of her tires at a Bernie Sanders rally. She was on the ground crew for team Sanders and driving the press van from town to town.
After some unexpected vandalism, she learned to train a video camera on the van that she could watch on her phone. Meat was just the next knothead she was going to be giving a lecture to.
He was paying attention to nothing but the task at hand. Tater walked right up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Whatcha doin?"
Meat didn't even look up. "Liberating the air from this tire. Whats it to you?" Tater grabbed Meat by the ear and twisted. "That's my tire buddy and if you don't shove the air back in that tire your ass is going to the Cincinnati jail."
"Ow ow ow ow" cried Meat. The last person who grabbed him by the ear was his poor mother who was cursed to raise him. When he finally looked up at her, figuring she'd be backed by security, she was all alone. He stood up and looked down at her. He chuckled, rubbing his ear.
"That hurt. How'd you like me to twist your ear?" He reached for her left ear and she ducked, grabbed his arm and flipped him over her shoulder. He was stunned for a second, lying on his back. He looked up and she was standing over him, hands on her hips.
That was all it took. She proceeded to beat him senseless with words. Then she locked him in her room.
About the closest thing one can compare Meat's encounter with Tater to on that fateful day was Paul's Damascus road experience. In one flash of light, or flip over a shoulder, a man's whole world view changed. One moment he was Meat, a prank pulling Trumpet on too much beer, the next moment he was Meat, a prank pulling Bernie Bro on too much beer.
There's no explaining blinding lights or the power of love. So happy seventh to my neighbors and to them keep the fans going. I'll bring beverages.