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Edited on Thu Sep-28-06 10:18 AM by Javaman
Once again, I was out on my front lawn, this time, not watering since we had a bunch of rain recently, but instead tending to my stevia plants.
My usual nosy fundie neighbor Phil had been quiet lately, so I was enjoying the peaceful morning blissfully unaware of the inanity that was about to beset me.
Shattered like a pane of glass, I heard Phil yell from his back yard, "that's it buster, it's to gitmo for you!"
I let out a long sigh as I know my morning of solitude wouldn't last.
I then heard the whine of one of the junior fundie Phil, "but dad, a few of my friends have!".
Phil retorts, "don't you get defiant with my bucko!".
"Bucko?",I thought. To much Happy Days on the brain.
Not wanting to deal with, but also intrigued by, the rare peek into the workings of Phil's, to this point unknown, family life. So, naturally, I eve's dropped on the conversation.
Not knowing him or really having met the junior Phil, I estimated the voice to be about 17 or 18.
Phil demanded, "would you follow your friends into heck as well?"
Surprisingly, the junior Phil responded rebelliously, "yes!"
Phil let out a blood curdling scream, "You are playing with fire young man. You WILL be grounded for the next 3 months!"
Junior Phil replied with disbelief, "3 months? For that?".
Phil retorted, "make that 4 months for the back sass talk!"
I then heard a door slam and peace once again returned. However, it left me with a sense of unfulfillment, wondering as to what the younger Phil did to warrant such a long sentence. Pretty much resigned to not knowing, I continued gardening.
I heard the hinges squeak on Phil's gate, then saw Phil, long faced approach me. I gazed peacefully at the little plant in front of me and quietly pleaded, "hide me".
"Sorry for the little rhubarb", Phil sighed. Phil had the look of an exasperated father. Not quite spitting nails but miffed enough to chew leather.
Quite frankly, I could give two about Phil and his family, but today, given the surprising defiance by his junior namesake, I just had to know. "Trouble in paradise, Phil?" I questioned.
My generally sarcastic quandary fell flat, Phil didn't bat an eye. I was slightly taken back.
Phil's eyes cast off looking but not really seeing, he had the appearance of a man beaten. "Phil junior, wants to join...the peace corps".
I was caught completely off guard. Did a spawn of Phil's actually have a sense of morality? Having done a stint in the "corp" myself, my heart leaped with hope at the prospect that out of insanity (Phil's), came good (junior Phil).
Phil thrust his hands in his pockets with a look of total dejection on his face. If it was any other human, I would have felt sorry for the guy. But this was Phil.
I slowly asked Phil, "And what pray-tell is the issue?". Phil looked at me. He had the eyes of someone that had stared at the sun to long.
Phil waxed philosophically, "You raise them as best as you can, you teach them right from wrong, you feed them, clothe them, put a roof over their heads and this is the thanks you get". Phil sighed a long drawn out dramatic sigh as if someone had just died in his arms.
I raised an eye brow, "Phil, It sounds to me, that your son is carrying on those morals and ethics to help his fellow human".
Phil focused on me, "you know, I'd expect as much from you, you...you hippie!" I almost laughed in his face. "hippie? Me?", I couldn't let the moment go by, "Don't let the tie-dye fool you Phil, I watch American Idol, well, that's until I got rid of my TV".
"It's all your fault", Phil fumed. "PJ (Phil junior) was all set for the Army! I had the recruiter here at the house several times. But you, with your...your gaaaardening, soiled his mind!"
For the first time since knowing Phil, I think I actually pondered the thought of punching him in the mouth, however, to Phil's perspective, it may have look as if I was pondering his dilemma instead. I casually looked at Phil and asked pointedly, "did you ever ask PJ what he wanted?"
It was only a question but the effect was if I actually did punch Phil in the mouth. Phil sputtered, "why he doesn't know what he wants! Proofs in him wanting to go into the Peeeeeeace corps". Phil strung out the word peace as if it was a nasty tasting piece of crap in his mouth.
"Not to get to mental on you here, but what did you want to be when you were a kid?" I waited patiently.
Phil blinked. I could watch him step into his own personal way-back machine. It only lasted a split second, but I saw his eyes glaze over and it appeared as if they momentarily welled up. In that millionth of a second, I understood that Phil's life was never his own and was wanting to repeat the same mistakes his father had made on him. I felt sorry for Phil. But that ended quickly.
"I wanted to be an actor, I did a mean Carol Channing impersonation...but my dad told me middle management is the way to go! That would be the best thing for me..." Momentarily, Phil whispered the words to "Hello Dolly" under his breath.
Something washed over Phil, I saw his face harden. His eyes narrowed and looked sideways at me. Slowly and in a creepy sort of way, Phil hissed, "Satan".
Having seen several goofy halloween horror movies in my life, none of them equaled this moment for it's scare factor.
Phil in his trade mark rant, exploded at the sky, "Why do you test me like this? Why do I come over here time and time again, only to be tempted?????" Phil refocused on my, "You, Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelzebub! Almost had me there! Blast-feeeeeeemer! Don't you tell me what to do with my kid! He's going into the Army! That is that! And he will like it!"
I shrugged at Phil. "I'm just pro-choice."
I thought Phil was going to flip out at that moment. He grabbed his hair and was about to yank it out, when the front door of his house slammed shut and JP stormed out, jumped into his car and peeled out.
Phil stood there like a deer caught in the headlights and his hands still tangled in his hair, just let out a little sort of gurgling noise then passed out.
Later in the emergency room, I pondered. Life is so short, we live we die and do stuff in between. It's the in between stuff that matters. Why? Because life is short. Why not make it peaceful and loving, instead of controlling and violent. We live in a time of choices. A choice to be peaceful or a choice to be violent. Those in power chose violent. When the violence finally run it's course, it's the peacemakers that solve the problems the violent ones made.
Life is so very short. Let's not make it shorter.
*Another installment in the ongoing series of my fictional neighbor Phil.*
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