Nice Try Darwin
I am happy to report that after about two weeks you could no longer see any remnants of the hole except a small bald spot.
Showing posts with label Michael. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael. Show all posts
Friday, October 24, 2008
Nice Try Darwin
I am happy to report that after about two weeks you could no longer see any remnants of the hole except a small bald spot.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Austin’s first camping trip
Austin’s first camping trip
This may be cheating a bit since Austin is the star of this story, but since he can’t remember it I figure the next best thing is for me to tell it on his behalf.
I want my children to love nature and feel at home in the elements. I figure the best way to do this is expose them at a young age to the great out doors. I’m sad to say that Austin’s first exposure ended up exposing him a little too much. I just hope it won’t back fire on me causing Austin to have deep subliminal memories of not liking camping all that much.
Austin was a little less than 3 months old. Heidi and I had a 3 day weekend and wanted to capitalize on it. Camping all three days would be a bit much with a baby so should we hike up Friday night and camp over till Saturday or Sunday night and camp till Monday? The weather man said it would be best for us to go sooner than later since Saturday day evening was expecting a storm. This would not be much of a problem we hoped since we would be hiking out Saturday afternoon. Heidi’s brother, his wife and our friend Rich would be coming with us. We made up some delicious tin foil dinners and were excited to get on the mountain. It was a beautiful day and the hike into the camp site as well as that night went as planned. Until about 3am that is. Heidi and I woke to the sounds of thunder and hail. I was worried that our rain fly would not hold or water could flow between our ground tarp and tent. But to my delight the tent stayed dry. Austin woke up periodically as new babies do to eat and with each waking I was still pleased to find us dry. If I had a flash light I would have not been so confident because I would have seen that our little tent* was caving under the weight of the hail. When the morning came I saw how dire our situation was. The top of the tent was almost touching our noses, for a brief moment I felt some pride for the fact that we were still dry. However we would not be for very long. I called over to the other tent where our three companions were sleeping and they were dry with no threat of infiltrating water. Heidi and I made up our minds, we stuffed our sleeping bags and packed our stuff just incase our tent didn’t hold and ran it and ourselves over to the neighboring tent. This tent was one of those Coleman Costco jobs with a high ceiling and plenty of space.
So there the five of us were, very comfortable with all intentions of waiting out the storm. But if you recall there were six people on this little trip. Austin was not comfortable, but would be as soon as he emptied his bowels into his diaper. Unfortunately his diaper was not quite big enough and poop exploded up his back and down his legs. This was not so good but fixable. So Heidi set about to remedy the problem with Katie’s help. I was on my feet at this time and noticed that the top of the tent was bowing a little under the hail. Katie told me to simply swat it, she’d done it before, and so I did. Instantly a rush of water poured into the tent. In slow motion I saw this water fall towards my unsuspecting innocent son’s face. He gasped as ice cold water bathed his face and washed down his chest. Remember he was nude because of the blow out diaper. Seconds later but what seemed like forever, his gasp turned into an enraged cry. Now Heidi’s skills would be tested. Could she calm, clean, dry and dress a baby in a tent that was slowly filling with frigid water. Well she could and did but it was not easy. I couldn’t help because I was trying to keep the rest of the hail/water out by holding the broken flap. Water trickled down my arm and soaked my clothes. I felt more and more sorry for my little trusting boy.
Now we were not so able to wait out the storm. Poopy water in the bottom of the tent and freezing water entering it helped make the decision to just break camp in the hail. Heidi sought refuge in a near by out house while I packed up our tent and everything else. While packing we noticed many fallen branches, some of which were quite large and could have done some damage had they fallen on us. Finally we set out with our noses pointing home. Austin slept most of the hike back and was nice and warm even though the rain didn’t let up. Well…it finally did when we reached the car.
* This is one of those tents that has two poles but instead of crossing each other they are just a big half circle and a little half circle allowing the tent to droop in the middle.
Michael 2006
This may be cheating a bit since Austin is the star of this story, but since he can’t remember it I figure the next best thing is for me to tell it on his behalf.
I want my children to love nature and feel at home in the elements. I figure the best way to do this is expose them at a young age to the great out doors. I’m sad to say that Austin’s first exposure ended up exposing him a little too much. I just hope it won’t back fire on me causing Austin to have deep subliminal memories of not liking camping all that much.
Austin was a little less than 3 months old. Heidi and I had a 3 day weekend and wanted to capitalize on it. Camping all three days would be a bit much with a baby so should we hike up Friday night and camp over till Saturday or Sunday night and camp till Monday? The weather man said it would be best for us to go sooner than later since Saturday day evening was expecting a storm. This would not be much of a problem we hoped since we would be hiking out Saturday afternoon. Heidi’s brother, his wife and our friend Rich would be coming with us. We made up some delicious tin foil dinners and were excited to get on the mountain. It was a beautiful day and the hike into the camp site as well as that night went as planned. Until about 3am that is. Heidi and I woke to the sounds of thunder and hail. I was worried that our rain fly would not hold or water could flow between our ground tarp and tent. But to my delight the tent stayed dry. Austin woke up periodically as new babies do to eat and with each waking I was still pleased to find us dry. If I had a flash light I would have not been so confident because I would have seen that our little tent* was caving under the weight of the hail. When the morning came I saw how dire our situation was. The top of the tent was almost touching our noses, for a brief moment I felt some pride for the fact that we were still dry. However we would not be for very long. I called over to the other tent where our three companions were sleeping and they were dry with no threat of infiltrating water. Heidi and I made up our minds, we stuffed our sleeping bags and packed our stuff just incase our tent didn’t hold and ran it and ourselves over to the neighboring tent. This tent was one of those Coleman Costco jobs with a high ceiling and plenty of space.
So there the five of us were, very comfortable with all intentions of waiting out the storm. But if you recall there were six people on this little trip. Austin was not comfortable, but would be as soon as he emptied his bowels into his diaper. Unfortunately his diaper was not quite big enough and poop exploded up his back and down his legs. This was not so good but fixable. So Heidi set about to remedy the problem with Katie’s help. I was on my feet at this time and noticed that the top of the tent was bowing a little under the hail. Katie told me to simply swat it, she’d done it before, and so I did. Instantly a rush of water poured into the tent. In slow motion I saw this water fall towards my unsuspecting innocent son’s face. He gasped as ice cold water bathed his face and washed down his chest. Remember he was nude because of the blow out diaper. Seconds later but what seemed like forever, his gasp turned into an enraged cry. Now Heidi’s skills would be tested. Could she calm, clean, dry and dress a baby in a tent that was slowly filling with frigid water. Well she could and did but it was not easy. I couldn’t help because I was trying to keep the rest of the hail/water out by holding the broken flap. Water trickled down my arm and soaked my clothes. I felt more and more sorry for my little trusting boy.
Now we were not so able to wait out the storm. Poopy water in the bottom of the tent and freezing water entering it helped make the decision to just break camp in the hail. Heidi sought refuge in a near by out house while I packed up our tent and everything else. While packing we noticed many fallen branches, some of which were quite large and could have done some damage had they fallen on us. Finally we set out with our noses pointing home. Austin slept most of the hike back and was nice and warm even though the rain didn’t let up. Well…it finally did when we reached the car.
* This is one of those tents that has two poles but instead of crossing each other they are just a big half circle and a little half circle allowing the tent to droop in the middle.
Michael 2006
Saturday, October 22, 2005
A night with Aaron and the 4-Wheeler
A night with Aaron and the 4-Wheeler
I have many fond memories of the 4-wheeler. At first I was a bit hesitant to use it at its full potential in fear of breaking it and having to then deal with telling dad what happened. All my reservation however flew out the window one night when Aaron took me for a ride. I was taught just how far the limits could be pushed before tipping or being flung from the moving craft, and even then it wasn’t that hard to push back up-right or get yourself back on and continue. I was impressed that the only reason off road vehicles existed was to push the limits, theirs and yours, and in doing so risk life, both theirs and yours. If not they just were not that exciting. One of the selling points about the 4-wheeler was that (unlike the motorcycle) it had working headlights so I didn’t have to hold a flashlight for Aaron. This was a real treat because he could decide when the appropriate time to go into stealth mode was and didn’t have to rely on me hearing him yell it over the howling 60+mph wind. But the best part of ridding with Aaron was that if it broke or we “broke” he was the one that should have known better and I would be the innocent victim. Yeah, ridding with Aaron was alright.
This one night that I speak of was, I think, Aaron’s first real ride as well, so I felt honored to partake in it. I think we waited ‘till about ten so dad would be asleep. We filled the tank with gas then bounced on it to somehow get the gas to go down. It did and we continued the ritual till we had succeeded in the ultimate top off. We drove down the gravel road took a left on to Concord Avenue, a right onto Orchard lane, a right onto Marsh Creek Road. I remember crossing the levee and being at the top of the slight hill on Marsh Creek. The moon was full that night or the sky was really clear because I remember it being a bright night.
Straight.
Soon we came to a bend in the road. If we took it right we would end up passing Round Valley which I don’t think existed then. If we went left we were on Camino Diablo.
Left.
I remember the hum of the tires on the asphalt muffled out by the scream engine muffled out by the howling wind in my ears. Aaron’s hair was flapping. He always had it slightly longer than Matthew and I but not much. I wondered if I should grow mine out like his, it was. But then I would have to “train” it with a hat to not go forward and that was too much trouble. I was getting cold now but would never tell him that. He seemed to live for pain and limits and cold was a form of them. I remembered that he seemed to enjoy the pain that cutting weight for wrestling caused him. I once questioned his sanity when I saw him open his mouth and scrap his tongue with his index finger to display a marshmallow size wad of cotton mouth while cutting. I remembered this and knew that cold was nothing compared to that.
I didn’t really know what he was looking for, maybe we were just going as fast as we could, But if that were all why not just stay on Concord Ave? Maybe he wanted to get another cable to make a zip line. I was with him when we go the first. We used the motorcycle then. I was the first to ride the zip line, I was the first to fall, and I was brave in front of his friends, or a fool, but I felt brave.
Cold.
We slowed down almost to a stop. Had he found what he wanted? I didn’t care, at least the wind stopped. We slowly coasted along looking for what I finally understood to be a way in. You see, we were out on the street where very little mud could be found. But in, on the other hand, was much better. Inside the freshly watered orchards you could find as much mud as desired. And that is what he was looking for. After all, 4-wheelers are not for asphalt. This is why the tires complain like they do. They make no sounds of complaint in mud. But why not find an orchard closer to home? Ah, that’s why, we needed a baby orchard; Aaron knew that established orchards would have grass or simply mowed weeds. This would not give us the full “mudding” experience. No, we needed a newly planted and watered orchard. Aaron some how knew exactly where to go. We found a way in.
Mud, lots of mud
We spoke of how we needed to erase all evidence of this night once we arrived home. On the screaming trip back I thought there would be little evidence left at the rate I saw and felt the mud flying of the back. We made it down the gravel road, parked in the drive way and hosed it off. Aaron made fun of me for tucking the black rubber boots up into my jeans. After we cleaned the 4-Wheeler it looked spotless to me and seemed to be clean enough for him because we called it a night and went in. The next day I went out to look at the machine to find it looking as if some one and dumped a truck load of mud on it and let it dry. Had we even cleaned it at all? I never heard a word about it, and besides, I would be the innocent bystander of one more of Aaron’s wild adventures.
I owe all of my wild times on the 4-Wheeler to that night. All my jumps, spills, tips and even endos. All my bloody elbows, branch whipped eyes, scraped skin and swallowed bugs. All the times I threw myself and my passenger from the moving mass were a result of that night. Thanks Aaron for showing me how to use the 4-Wheeler, and sorry dad for using it that way.
Michael 2005
I have many fond memories of the 4-wheeler. At first I was a bit hesitant to use it at its full potential in fear of breaking it and having to then deal with telling dad what happened. All my reservation however flew out the window one night when Aaron took me for a ride. I was taught just how far the limits could be pushed before tipping or being flung from the moving craft, and even then it wasn’t that hard to push back up-right or get yourself back on and continue. I was impressed that the only reason off road vehicles existed was to push the limits, theirs and yours, and in doing so risk life, both theirs and yours. If not they just were not that exciting. One of the selling points about the 4-wheeler was that (unlike the motorcycle) it had working headlights so I didn’t have to hold a flashlight for Aaron. This was a real treat because he could decide when the appropriate time to go into stealth mode was and didn’t have to rely on me hearing him yell it over the howling 60+mph wind. But the best part of ridding with Aaron was that if it broke or we “broke” he was the one that should have known better and I would be the innocent victim. Yeah, ridding with Aaron was alright.
This one night that I speak of was, I think, Aaron’s first real ride as well, so I felt honored to partake in it. I think we waited ‘till about ten so dad would be asleep. We filled the tank with gas then bounced on it to somehow get the gas to go down. It did and we continued the ritual till we had succeeded in the ultimate top off. We drove down the gravel road took a left on to Concord Avenue, a right onto Orchard lane, a right onto Marsh Creek Road. I remember crossing the levee and being at the top of the slight hill on Marsh Creek. The moon was full that night or the sky was really clear because I remember it being a bright night.
Straight.
Soon we came to a bend in the road. If we took it right we would end up passing Round Valley which I don’t think existed then. If we went left we were on Camino Diablo.
Left.
I remember the hum of the tires on the asphalt muffled out by the scream engine muffled out by the howling wind in my ears. Aaron’s hair was flapping. He always had it slightly longer than Matthew and I but not much. I wondered if I should grow mine out like his, it was. But then I would have to “train” it with a hat to not go forward and that was too much trouble. I was getting cold now but would never tell him that. He seemed to live for pain and limits and cold was a form of them. I remembered that he seemed to enjoy the pain that cutting weight for wrestling caused him. I once questioned his sanity when I saw him open his mouth and scrap his tongue with his index finger to display a marshmallow size wad of cotton mouth while cutting. I remembered this and knew that cold was nothing compared to that.
I didn’t really know what he was looking for, maybe we were just going as fast as we could, But if that were all why not just stay on Concord Ave? Maybe he wanted to get another cable to make a zip line. I was with him when we go the first. We used the motorcycle then. I was the first to ride the zip line, I was the first to fall, and I was brave in front of his friends, or a fool, but I felt brave.
Cold.
We slowed down almost to a stop. Had he found what he wanted? I didn’t care, at least the wind stopped. We slowly coasted along looking for what I finally understood to be a way in. You see, we were out on the street where very little mud could be found. But in, on the other hand, was much better. Inside the freshly watered orchards you could find as much mud as desired. And that is what he was looking for. After all, 4-wheelers are not for asphalt. This is why the tires complain like they do. They make no sounds of complaint in mud. But why not find an orchard closer to home? Ah, that’s why, we needed a baby orchard; Aaron knew that established orchards would have grass or simply mowed weeds. This would not give us the full “mudding” experience. No, we needed a newly planted and watered orchard. Aaron some how knew exactly where to go. We found a way in.
Mud, lots of mud
We spoke of how we needed to erase all evidence of this night once we arrived home. On the screaming trip back I thought there would be little evidence left at the rate I saw and felt the mud flying of the back. We made it down the gravel road, parked in the drive way and hosed it off. Aaron made fun of me for tucking the black rubber boots up into my jeans. After we cleaned the 4-Wheeler it looked spotless to me and seemed to be clean enough for him because we called it a night and went in. The next day I went out to look at the machine to find it looking as if some one and dumped a truck load of mud on it and let it dry. Had we even cleaned it at all? I never heard a word about it, and besides, I would be the innocent bystander of one more of Aaron’s wild adventures.
I owe all of my wild times on the 4-Wheeler to that night. All my jumps, spills, tips and even endos. All my bloody elbows, branch whipped eyes, scraped skin and swallowed bugs. All the times I threw myself and my passenger from the moving mass were a result of that night. Thanks Aaron for showing me how to use the 4-Wheeler, and sorry dad for using it that way.
Michael 2005
Friday, October 22, 2004
Summer 2004
Summer 2004
For all of you that have ever sold anything door-to-door you understand how fun it can be. The only up side of door-to-door sales is sometimes you meet some interesting people. This summer I met some winners but I would have to say that the most interesting person I met was super patriotic man. Or super anti-terrorist man.
It was afternoon and I was ready for a lunch break. My co-worker was still smoothing a deal over with this soccer mom so I headed towards the care. On my way I came up on a man in his driveway working on one of those bikes you ride in the reclining position. Since I like bicycling and have always wanted to try out one of those bikes I asked the guy why he liked this type of bike opposed to the conventional upright bikes. In a tone that sounded like he wanted me to die a horrible death for bothering him he said that every time you get in a car you are funding the Gosh Darn terrorists and that he has been riding bikes since the 70’ s and is a true patriot and doesn’t want to fund the Gosh Darn terrorists. I told that he was probably right, but I still wanted to know the benefits of that type of bike so I rephrased my question so that he couldn’t mistake it. Once again he went off on terrorists and couldn’t understand why I would drive a car anywhere, unless I absolutely love terrorists. I was a bit confused at his replies but decided to walk away instead of press the issue. Super anti-terrorist man had won that battle and hopefully he wins the war.
So if any of you see a person riding one of these weird looking reclined bikes you don’t need to ask them why they prefer those bikes. It’s simply because they hate terrorist.
Michael 2004
For all of you that have ever sold anything door-to-door you understand how fun it can be. The only up side of door-to-door sales is sometimes you meet some interesting people. This summer I met some winners but I would have to say that the most interesting person I met was super patriotic man. Or super anti-terrorist man.
It was afternoon and I was ready for a lunch break. My co-worker was still smoothing a deal over with this soccer mom so I headed towards the care. On my way I came up on a man in his driveway working on one of those bikes you ride in the reclining position. Since I like bicycling and have always wanted to try out one of those bikes I asked the guy why he liked this type of bike opposed to the conventional upright bikes. In a tone that sounded like he wanted me to die a horrible death for bothering him he said that every time you get in a car you are funding the Gosh Darn terrorists and that he has been riding bikes since the 70’ s and is a true patriot and doesn’t want to fund the Gosh Darn terrorists. I told that he was probably right, but I still wanted to know the benefits of that type of bike so I rephrased my question so that he couldn’t mistake it. Once again he went off on terrorists and couldn’t understand why I would drive a car anywhere, unless I absolutely love terrorists. I was a bit confused at his replies but decided to walk away instead of press the issue. Super anti-terrorist man had won that battle and hopefully he wins the war.
So if any of you see a person riding one of these weird looking reclined bikes you don’t need to ask them why they prefer those bikes. It’s simply because they hate terrorist.
Michael 2004
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
The Fight
The Fight
(Extended Edition)
Nice isn’t it? The title I mean. It makes it sound like a Van-dam movie like “The Quest” or something. But when you think about it, it was a lot more exciting than any pretty little choreographed fight film. No fancy little spin kicks or matrix special effects were needed to spice this thing up. No, it was a good old fashioned, down and dirty, hard core beating. No referee, no rules. Who got beat you ask. Well you just settle yourself down in that chair of yours and listen to the tale of the little white boy, and “Nick Dogg”. (Now it sounds like and Aesop’s fable)
It was Christmas break and I was a freshman in college. The night was cold like you would expect for a winter’s night. Christmas had come and gone and that nice relaxed “no care in the world” feeling had settled in. You know the feeling, the one you only get as a kid when no bills are to be paid by anyone but dad, anyway, that was the feeling that had settled itself in at Black Oak Manor. Yeah, I was 18 but still just a kid. But I’m afraid I’m getting ahead of myself. The story really starts freshman year in high school.
Freshman year, Ted Biggs and I were buds. He tried his best to get me into trouble and did a pretty good job at it. We would hang out at church dances and the like but never at school, didn’t I like the kids he paled around with. Anyway, at one particular youth conference dance Ted and I met this little thing named Rachel Czerban. She liked my style I guess you could say and wanted to get to know me. I found no harm in making a new friend even though I knew she wanted to be more than friends, but I played the “good guy friend that you can never have so don’t try” role. I soon found out how weird she was. She had pictures of me in her “hot guys” book as it was titled and talked about me to every girl in the Antioch Stake, telling them to keep their mitts off me because I belonged to her. I wasn’t too keen on the whole ownership thing so I started to ignore her. She went from obsessing over me to hating my guts. And that’s were I left it. Her and Ted liked each other for a bit but I didn’t really care to know about it.
Okay, now fast forward back to Christmas break when I was a freshman in college. Aaron and I were on our way home from college to get some good eats and presents. At the airport I bump into Ted on his way home as well, and on the same flight to boot. We hadn’t really spoken in a while just because our paths had lead different ways. We caught up on what was going on, he showed me his new tattoos and we talked. When the plane landed he said we should maybe hang out over the break. This basically meant I would entertain him when he got bored with his family. I said that would be cool, why not?
Now I was home, the Night was cold like you could expect for a winter’s night. That nice Christmassy feeling was settling itself into my pie filled belly when the phone rang. It was Ted wanting to come over. I didn’t particularly want to entertain him right then but I didn’t mind. So he came over and after the whole “what did you get? I got a new truck” talk was over he told me something that surprised me. Now nothing coming from Ted’s lips surprised me anymore because after all, it was tattoo covered Ted. But the story wasn’t about him. It was about Rachel. He told me that she had been dating this scum bag for the past x amount of time and the very day she turned 18 she moved out of her house into his. I was just a little bit shocked you could say. So I asked;
Me- “Who told you this?”
Ted- “Her mom bumped into mine at the mall and, in tears, told her the story.”
Me- “That’s pretty crazy. I never would have expected this from Rachel even if she is a little boy crazy”
Ted- “It gets better, her mom gave my mom who then gave me her phone number. Well I called it and this guy gets on the phone, puts me through all this crap as to who I am then puts her on the line and she tells me to never call her again.”
Me- “No way, you’re lying.”
Ted- “Here’s her number dude, call and see.”
So I called her up and sure enough it went the same way with me. Nick Dogg picked up, and after I explained to him that I was Rachel’s friend back from college and wanted to see how she was doing, he put her on the line. She, in the meanest voice her little vocal cords could muster, told me to never call again. Maybe it was my hot head, or the feeling that something wasn’t right, but what ever it was that made me call back got me into a lot of trouble. I called back and asked for her again. After a bomb of expletives blew up in my ear I said something that made him really mad. He threatened to kill me, I told him (in the most educated an upper class way possible) that I wasn’t afraid of what he thought he could do. He hung up on me. My heart was racing. What I just went threw blew my mind, I talked to a real life idiot-wannabe-thug. I had always heard about them and seen them on the TV show “COPS”. But never did I have my life threatened by one. 30 seconds after he hung up he called back and said he was serious about killing me, he knew who I was and where I lived because of Rachel’s “Hot Guys” book. (She still had that? What a weirdo!) So this guy knew my address, big deal, I still wasn’t scared. Nobody can find our house in the day let alone at night. So after my heart slowed down a bit Ted and I went down stairs and watched Amy play “Tomb Raider.” Five minutes later the phone rang. It was Nick Dogg again with a bunch of people in the back ground that he must have called to come with him to kill me. He told me to be outside in 45 minutes. I got a little nervous. Was he serious? Was he really coming over? I don’t remember where Aaron was but I told him what had happened and what might happen. I don’t remember ever seeing him so excited, this gave me some comfort. I think it was Him that decided to arm us. Amy got a gun (pellet that is) and we got my machete and gave it to Ted I think. It’s a good thing Amy had the pellet gun. Maybe she could have shot out a few eyes. Aaron thought it best to have her hide in the apple trees with it just incase they had guns; we didn’t want them to pull theirs out.
We went out side right about when he should have shown up. Nothing, nobody but us, Nevada and Ebony. I called his place hoping to get Rachel on the line now that he was out of the house. No answer. We waited a bit longer and just as I was about to go inside (much relieved) I saw three cars slowing driving by the front of our property and my heart sunk. I knew it was only time before these retards could figure out that the numbers on our mail box, “2, 1, 6 and 3” were indeed the address “2163”. You see, numbers with more than one digit can confuse ignorant thugs, but give them time and they can sometimes figure it out. Once they put the four one-digit numbers together, two of the cars parked across the street and one came down the road in reverse to see if I was there. When they saw me they took off up the road and parked by the other cars. They all got out. About 20 or so of them came down the road with flash lights. I heard one of them yell, “Spread out”. The last thing I wanted was for these cake boys to make it back to my house and break windows or something that vandals do. I yelled back that my business was with Nick and that if he was man enough, I was standing in the middle of the road waiting. Their pace quickened. Their attempts to hide their bats and crow bars from my vision failed as they tripped their way up our gravel, pot hole filled road. Nevada went up to great them like a nice Labrador would. The big guy in the middle, who I assumed to be Nick Dogg, swung his crow bar at him but missed. Wendy, picking the worst time to leave for work, pulled up to him not knowing it wasn’t me and complemented his mask. When she realized it wasn’t me she threw her car into reverse and went back to the house.
As he approached I realized just how small I was. Now face to face, maybe I should say face to chest, I knew some one was going to get hurt real bad that night. I just hoped it wasn’t me. He tried to pretend that he wasn’t Nick Dogg, but lied that he was someone who takes care of Nick Dogg’s business. I didn’t buy it especially because his idiot friends kept yelling, “Kill Him Nick Dogg”. Ted jumped in between us muttering some cowardice apology but it only fell on deaf ears, mine and his. This cake eater was on my property, in my face, yelling a bunch of insanities, and I was going to have a little whimp like Ted apologize for me? I don’t think so. I told Ted to shut up and pushed him away. Way to have my back Ted.
Nick Dogg pushed me, “What are you gonna do? Huh, What are you gonna do?” When He pushed me I thought I would not live to see the next day. This kid was strong! I was knocked back a bit but got right back in his face. I yelled, “Your on my property punk, what are you gonna do?” He pushed me again and this time when I was coming to get back in his face he swung at me. Maybe it was luck or my lightning quick reflexes but some how I got out of the way when his fist came flying toward me. With this one mistake the outcome of the fight decided. The fool had left his body exposed, even if it was for a split second, and you never leave yourself open to a wrestler. I jumped in on him using an arm drag and didn’t hesitate to soufflé him right to his head. His body went limp for a fraction of a second but strength returned to his limbs. He started to stand up with me on his back. Fool. I threw him again. This time he stayed down. I legged in and started to pound on his head with a speed that surprised me. He rolled to his back in attempt to crush me or at least make me stop hitting him. I shifted my hips and was now on top of him, thrashing down on his ski-mask covered face. He rolled around some more but there was no way to get me off him. Poor fool judged me to be a week little boy. In his struggle to escape my “kung-foo” grip he tried pulling my hair and biting my ear. Being unsuccessful at both he bit my chest. (I still have a mark)
Amid the sound of my fists crunching his head into the gravel road and his gasps for air, you could hear his friends calling out for him to kill me and other words of thug-like encouragement. I wasn’t with out my choice words as well. I had a cool enough head to keep my mouth clean but really make them all look like fools, all the while beating and submitting their thug idol.
Aaron informed me that the cops were on their way and that I should now proceed to choke him out. I went to do it but couldn’t get my arm around his neck because his chin was down. Aaron got a little impatient with me. I went to choke him out another way but he jerked and god my right ring finder in his mouth. He bit down as hard as he could. It didn’t hurt at the time but I knew it would. Aaron told me to hurry up and choke him out. I said I couldn’t because he was biting my finger. It was here that his friends cheered for him. I mean really, this guy pulls my hair, bites my chest and fingers, and his friends are proud of him? I finally ripped my hand away leaving most of my finger tip in his mouth. I maneuvered to get on top of him to knock him out with punches. In the light of the flash lights I could see that my hand was in no condition to make a fist, so I used my elbows. His flailing arms couldn’t find me even though I was right on top of him. He was pretty dizzy.
In a weakened voice, while gasping for air he said, “Wheres my doggs is at? Where my niggas is at?” Two of his “doggs” came up to get me off of him, grabbing me under each arm. I looked at them and said, “Okay, its over, its over” they said, “No were just standing you two up again.” Now this is a street fight mind you. Nick Dogg had already proven that there were no rules by biting me and pulling my hair. So I was amazed at the idiocy so embedded in the heads of his friends to think it wasn’t fair that I could grapple and he couldn’t. I pulled my tired arms away from them and came down with a defeating blow right to his nose. Then for the first time since the fight began, I was afraid. I didn’t fear for my safety anymore, I knew none of these punks would come against me or Aaron after seeing what we were capable of. No, it wasn’t my life that was in any danger, it was theirs.
Immediately after I hit Nick in the nose I heard a shotgun blast. Dang it Wendy! Why did you wake dad up? Girls are such babies I thought. I looked back to see my dad with his pistol-grip shotgun in hand, coming down our drive way yelling all sorts of things I don’t remember. He had rage in his eyes and his robe on his body, half opened exposing his chest. Most of the kids took off at the sound of gunfire. I got up and walked toward the house. Wendy grabbed my arm and said, “Michael, human bites can be more harmful than snake bites.” Thanks Wendy for the free trivia. I was being pulled back to the house like a mother pulls her kids through the supermarket when they’re having a tantrum. Dad yelled something as one of the kids threw a crow bar at me. It didn’t come close. Wendy tugged on my tired arms some more and then we were back at the house.
We came through the front door. Meghan saw the blood on me and began to cry. I didn’t say anything but remember thinking, “Don’t worry, it’s not mine, it’s his.” I don’t know if my thought ever formed words. Just then Wendy pulled me into the kitchen telling me all sorts of horror stories about human bites. She immediate began to clean my finger then put it in a cup of Hydrogen Peroxide. It bubbled and fizzed like an agitated can of soda. I was surprised that it didn’t hurt at all. In fact nothing hurt. I saw some of the family coming through the back sliding door and then a police officer. “Good” I thought, “they got them.” But no they didn’t. For some reason cops don’t really know how to follow cars speeding away from a reported disturbance.
When the cop asked what had happened, I related the story to him. He asked for a description and I said Nick was about 6’1’’ and around 200 pounds. The look on his face told me he didn’t believe a word of it. Realistically I should have been stuck to the bottom of his shoe and he knew that. But dad was able to confirm his height and size. The cop told me that the next time this happened I should call the police. As polite as I could I pointed out that this kind of thing almost never happens and most likely would not happen again. He realized the truth of my words and let it go. He looked over at Dad who was standing there in a robe still with his black assault shot gun in hand and a crazy smile on his face. He asked Dad to produce the registration for the fire arm. I’ve never seen Dad so proud as when he showed the cop the license and the cop nodded in a type of approval. I think Dad was happy that he had followed the law for once. Then after taking pictures of my arms, fists and torso and seeing some teeth and gravel marks on my fists and elbows, he gave me a victim card that was good at any hospital. This was perfect, now I was able to get all the shots I needed to go on a mission, for free.
During all of this the endorphins running through my veins ran out. My finger burned with a stinging heat. I just wanted to go bed. The cops left and I went up to my room. I noticed how beside herself my mom was. Poor thing thought she almost lost one of her babies. Dad came in as I was getting in bed and informed me that I was grounded for the rest of the break. This was funny because I didn’t plan on going anywhere unless it was with the family anyway, and he knew that. He seemed real excited about what had happened and that his sons were true scrappers like he was in his younger days. I think he wished he could have watched it. Too bad fighting isn’t as safe as it was then. Nowadays people get too dangerous with their bats and crow bars and all.
After everyone left Aaron stuck around and quizzically asked me why I didn’t choke Nick out. Good old Aaron. I knew deep down that he wished someone had attacked him as well so he could put his skills to the test. After he left I laid in bed actually feeling sorry for this kid. After all He looked like a fool to his friends and had to go back to his girl friend and explain his pitiful physical state, and I was a hero.
(Extended Edition)
Nice isn’t it? The title I mean. It makes it sound like a Van-dam movie like “The Quest” or something. But when you think about it, it was a lot more exciting than any pretty little choreographed fight film. No fancy little spin kicks or matrix special effects were needed to spice this thing up. No, it was a good old fashioned, down and dirty, hard core beating. No referee, no rules. Who got beat you ask. Well you just settle yourself down in that chair of yours and listen to the tale of the little white boy, and “Nick Dogg”. (Now it sounds like and Aesop’s fable)
It was Christmas break and I was a freshman in college. The night was cold like you would expect for a winter’s night. Christmas had come and gone and that nice relaxed “no care in the world” feeling had settled in. You know the feeling, the one you only get as a kid when no bills are to be paid by anyone but dad, anyway, that was the feeling that had settled itself in at Black Oak Manor. Yeah, I was 18 but still just a kid. But I’m afraid I’m getting ahead of myself. The story really starts freshman year in high school.
Freshman year, Ted Biggs and I were buds. He tried his best to get me into trouble and did a pretty good job at it. We would hang out at church dances and the like but never at school, didn’t I like the kids he paled around with. Anyway, at one particular youth conference dance Ted and I met this little thing named Rachel Czerban. She liked my style I guess you could say and wanted to get to know me. I found no harm in making a new friend even though I knew she wanted to be more than friends, but I played the “good guy friend that you can never have so don’t try” role. I soon found out how weird she was. She had pictures of me in her “hot guys” book as it was titled and talked about me to every girl in the Antioch Stake, telling them to keep their mitts off me because I belonged to her. I wasn’t too keen on the whole ownership thing so I started to ignore her. She went from obsessing over me to hating my guts. And that’s were I left it. Her and Ted liked each other for a bit but I didn’t really care to know about it.
Okay, now fast forward back to Christmas break when I was a freshman in college. Aaron and I were on our way home from college to get some good eats and presents. At the airport I bump into Ted on his way home as well, and on the same flight to boot. We hadn’t really spoken in a while just because our paths had lead different ways. We caught up on what was going on, he showed me his new tattoos and we talked. When the plane landed he said we should maybe hang out over the break. This basically meant I would entertain him when he got bored with his family. I said that would be cool, why not?
Now I was home, the Night was cold like you could expect for a winter’s night. That nice Christmassy feeling was settling itself into my pie filled belly when the phone rang. It was Ted wanting to come over. I didn’t particularly want to entertain him right then but I didn’t mind. So he came over and after the whole “what did you get? I got a new truck” talk was over he told me something that surprised me. Now nothing coming from Ted’s lips surprised me anymore because after all, it was tattoo covered Ted. But the story wasn’t about him. It was about Rachel. He told me that she had been dating this scum bag for the past x amount of time and the very day she turned 18 she moved out of her house into his. I was just a little bit shocked you could say. So I asked;
Me- “Who told you this?”
Ted- “Her mom bumped into mine at the mall and, in tears, told her the story.”
Me- “That’s pretty crazy. I never would have expected this from Rachel even if she is a little boy crazy”
Ted- “It gets better, her mom gave my mom who then gave me her phone number. Well I called it and this guy gets on the phone, puts me through all this crap as to who I am then puts her on the line and she tells me to never call her again.”
Me- “No way, you’re lying.”
Ted- “Here’s her number dude, call and see.”
So I called her up and sure enough it went the same way with me. Nick Dogg picked up, and after I explained to him that I was Rachel’s friend back from college and wanted to see how she was doing, he put her on the line. She, in the meanest voice her little vocal cords could muster, told me to never call again. Maybe it was my hot head, or the feeling that something wasn’t right, but what ever it was that made me call back got me into a lot of trouble. I called back and asked for her again. After a bomb of expletives blew up in my ear I said something that made him really mad. He threatened to kill me, I told him (in the most educated an upper class way possible) that I wasn’t afraid of what he thought he could do. He hung up on me. My heart was racing. What I just went threw blew my mind, I talked to a real life idiot-wannabe-thug. I had always heard about them and seen them on the TV show “COPS”. But never did I have my life threatened by one. 30 seconds after he hung up he called back and said he was serious about killing me, he knew who I was and where I lived because of Rachel’s “Hot Guys” book. (She still had that? What a weirdo!) So this guy knew my address, big deal, I still wasn’t scared. Nobody can find our house in the day let alone at night. So after my heart slowed down a bit Ted and I went down stairs and watched Amy play “Tomb Raider.” Five minutes later the phone rang. It was Nick Dogg again with a bunch of people in the back ground that he must have called to come with him to kill me. He told me to be outside in 45 minutes. I got a little nervous. Was he serious? Was he really coming over? I don’t remember where Aaron was but I told him what had happened and what might happen. I don’t remember ever seeing him so excited, this gave me some comfort. I think it was Him that decided to arm us. Amy got a gun (pellet that is) and we got my machete and gave it to Ted I think. It’s a good thing Amy had the pellet gun. Maybe she could have shot out a few eyes. Aaron thought it best to have her hide in the apple trees with it just incase they had guns; we didn’t want them to pull theirs out.
We went out side right about when he should have shown up. Nothing, nobody but us, Nevada and Ebony. I called his place hoping to get Rachel on the line now that he was out of the house. No answer. We waited a bit longer and just as I was about to go inside (much relieved) I saw three cars slowing driving by the front of our property and my heart sunk. I knew it was only time before these retards could figure out that the numbers on our mail box, “2, 1, 6 and 3” were indeed the address “2163”. You see, numbers with more than one digit can confuse ignorant thugs, but give them time and they can sometimes figure it out. Once they put the four one-digit numbers together, two of the cars parked across the street and one came down the road in reverse to see if I was there. When they saw me they took off up the road and parked by the other cars. They all got out. About 20 or so of them came down the road with flash lights. I heard one of them yell, “Spread out”. The last thing I wanted was for these cake boys to make it back to my house and break windows or something that vandals do. I yelled back that my business was with Nick and that if he was man enough, I was standing in the middle of the road waiting. Their pace quickened. Their attempts to hide their bats and crow bars from my vision failed as they tripped their way up our gravel, pot hole filled road. Nevada went up to great them like a nice Labrador would. The big guy in the middle, who I assumed to be Nick Dogg, swung his crow bar at him but missed. Wendy, picking the worst time to leave for work, pulled up to him not knowing it wasn’t me and complemented his mask. When she realized it wasn’t me she threw her car into reverse and went back to the house.
As he approached I realized just how small I was. Now face to face, maybe I should say face to chest, I knew some one was going to get hurt real bad that night. I just hoped it wasn’t me. He tried to pretend that he wasn’t Nick Dogg, but lied that he was someone who takes care of Nick Dogg’s business. I didn’t buy it especially because his idiot friends kept yelling, “Kill Him Nick Dogg”. Ted jumped in between us muttering some cowardice apology but it only fell on deaf ears, mine and his. This cake eater was on my property, in my face, yelling a bunch of insanities, and I was going to have a little whimp like Ted apologize for me? I don’t think so. I told Ted to shut up and pushed him away. Way to have my back Ted.
Nick Dogg pushed me, “What are you gonna do? Huh, What are you gonna do?” When He pushed me I thought I would not live to see the next day. This kid was strong! I was knocked back a bit but got right back in his face. I yelled, “Your on my property punk, what are you gonna do?” He pushed me again and this time when I was coming to get back in his face he swung at me. Maybe it was luck or my lightning quick reflexes but some how I got out of the way when his fist came flying toward me. With this one mistake the outcome of the fight decided. The fool had left his body exposed, even if it was for a split second, and you never leave yourself open to a wrestler. I jumped in on him using an arm drag and didn’t hesitate to soufflé him right to his head. His body went limp for a fraction of a second but strength returned to his limbs. He started to stand up with me on his back. Fool. I threw him again. This time he stayed down. I legged in and started to pound on his head with a speed that surprised me. He rolled to his back in attempt to crush me or at least make me stop hitting him. I shifted my hips and was now on top of him, thrashing down on his ski-mask covered face. He rolled around some more but there was no way to get me off him. Poor fool judged me to be a week little boy. In his struggle to escape my “kung-foo” grip he tried pulling my hair and biting my ear. Being unsuccessful at both he bit my chest. (I still have a mark)
Amid the sound of my fists crunching his head into the gravel road and his gasps for air, you could hear his friends calling out for him to kill me and other words of thug-like encouragement. I wasn’t with out my choice words as well. I had a cool enough head to keep my mouth clean but really make them all look like fools, all the while beating and submitting their thug idol.
Aaron informed me that the cops were on their way and that I should now proceed to choke him out. I went to do it but couldn’t get my arm around his neck because his chin was down. Aaron got a little impatient with me. I went to choke him out another way but he jerked and god my right ring finder in his mouth. He bit down as hard as he could. It didn’t hurt at the time but I knew it would. Aaron told me to hurry up and choke him out. I said I couldn’t because he was biting my finger. It was here that his friends cheered for him. I mean really, this guy pulls my hair, bites my chest and fingers, and his friends are proud of him? I finally ripped my hand away leaving most of my finger tip in his mouth. I maneuvered to get on top of him to knock him out with punches. In the light of the flash lights I could see that my hand was in no condition to make a fist, so I used my elbows. His flailing arms couldn’t find me even though I was right on top of him. He was pretty dizzy.
In a weakened voice, while gasping for air he said, “Wheres my doggs is at? Where my niggas is at?” Two of his “doggs” came up to get me off of him, grabbing me under each arm. I looked at them and said, “Okay, its over, its over” they said, “No were just standing you two up again.” Now this is a street fight mind you. Nick Dogg had already proven that there were no rules by biting me and pulling my hair. So I was amazed at the idiocy so embedded in the heads of his friends to think it wasn’t fair that I could grapple and he couldn’t. I pulled my tired arms away from them and came down with a defeating blow right to his nose. Then for the first time since the fight began, I was afraid. I didn’t fear for my safety anymore, I knew none of these punks would come against me or Aaron after seeing what we were capable of. No, it wasn’t my life that was in any danger, it was theirs.
Immediately after I hit Nick in the nose I heard a shotgun blast. Dang it Wendy! Why did you wake dad up? Girls are such babies I thought. I looked back to see my dad with his pistol-grip shotgun in hand, coming down our drive way yelling all sorts of things I don’t remember. He had rage in his eyes and his robe on his body, half opened exposing his chest. Most of the kids took off at the sound of gunfire. I got up and walked toward the house. Wendy grabbed my arm and said, “Michael, human bites can be more harmful than snake bites.” Thanks Wendy for the free trivia. I was being pulled back to the house like a mother pulls her kids through the supermarket when they’re having a tantrum. Dad yelled something as one of the kids threw a crow bar at me. It didn’t come close. Wendy tugged on my tired arms some more and then we were back at the house.
We came through the front door. Meghan saw the blood on me and began to cry. I didn’t say anything but remember thinking, “Don’t worry, it’s not mine, it’s his.” I don’t know if my thought ever formed words. Just then Wendy pulled me into the kitchen telling me all sorts of horror stories about human bites. She immediate began to clean my finger then put it in a cup of Hydrogen Peroxide. It bubbled and fizzed like an agitated can of soda. I was surprised that it didn’t hurt at all. In fact nothing hurt. I saw some of the family coming through the back sliding door and then a police officer. “Good” I thought, “they got them.” But no they didn’t. For some reason cops don’t really know how to follow cars speeding away from a reported disturbance.
When the cop asked what had happened, I related the story to him. He asked for a description and I said Nick was about 6’1’’ and around 200 pounds. The look on his face told me he didn’t believe a word of it. Realistically I should have been stuck to the bottom of his shoe and he knew that. But dad was able to confirm his height and size. The cop told me that the next time this happened I should call the police. As polite as I could I pointed out that this kind of thing almost never happens and most likely would not happen again. He realized the truth of my words and let it go. He looked over at Dad who was standing there in a robe still with his black assault shot gun in hand and a crazy smile on his face. He asked Dad to produce the registration for the fire arm. I’ve never seen Dad so proud as when he showed the cop the license and the cop nodded in a type of approval. I think Dad was happy that he had followed the law for once. Then after taking pictures of my arms, fists and torso and seeing some teeth and gravel marks on my fists and elbows, he gave me a victim card that was good at any hospital. This was perfect, now I was able to get all the shots I needed to go on a mission, for free.
During all of this the endorphins running through my veins ran out. My finger burned with a stinging heat. I just wanted to go bed. The cops left and I went up to my room. I noticed how beside herself my mom was. Poor thing thought she almost lost one of her babies. Dad came in as I was getting in bed and informed me that I was grounded for the rest of the break. This was funny because I didn’t plan on going anywhere unless it was with the family anyway, and he knew that. He seemed real excited about what had happened and that his sons were true scrappers like he was in his younger days. I think he wished he could have watched it. Too bad fighting isn’t as safe as it was then. Nowadays people get too dangerous with their bats and crow bars and all.
After everyone left Aaron stuck around and quizzically asked me why I didn’t choke Nick out. Good old Aaron. I knew deep down that he wished someone had attacked him as well so he could put his skills to the test. After he left I laid in bed actually feeling sorry for this kid. After all He looked like a fool to his friends and had to go back to his girl friend and explain his pitiful physical state, and I was a hero.
Tuesday, October 23, 2001
Micro-Organisms
Micro-Organisms
At home:
the trip.
(Michael Walwyn Nielsen, Christmas 2001)
At home:
Michael: Hey mom!At the lake:
Mom: What?
Michael: How many socks should I pack for the hiking trip?
Mom: About one pair…
Michael: Ok
Hey, we’re already here at Heather Lake and we still have a bunch of day light, lets set up camp then walk to the lake just down the trail…In the rain:
Do you think it’ll rain?
No..
Man, it’s really pouring down, it’s getting pretty cold too. What an adventure.Back at camp:
Lets head back to camp. It’s freezing…I think I’m gonna die.
Oh, don’t worry, you just need some dry clothes and you’ll be fine…
Oh poop, our tents are soaked.This Story ends with Harvey making fun of the ranger in a gay voice, dad winning 1000 dollars (in Reno during the ticket “trial”), and us avoiding the Rangers the rest of
Michael, get dressed in some warm clothes.
Michael: I can’t…
Why not?
Michael: I don’t have any.
Why not?
Michael: Because mom told me to only pack one pair of everything so my Pack would be light.
Dad: “Dang-it!”
Well, lets build a fire so you don’t die.
Burn crackle crackle
Feel better?
Michael: Yeah…
Gay Ranger: Good evening ya’ll, how’s it going? Mind ‘fi join you? O look, what a beautiful fire, are you aware that it’s a…against the law to have a fire here in the Desolation Wilderness? Did you?
Dad: Well officer, I figured I didn’t want my son to die so I thought maybe I could build a fire to warm him up, he forgot his clothes.
Gay Ranger: Yeah, well aint that a tear jerker, I could let it go but I’m just wondering if you know how many micro-organisms you’re killing. I don’t think this spot of ground will ever be the same, the damage done is irreversible….So here’s your ticket, have a nice evening.
the trip.
(Michael Walwyn Nielsen, Christmas 2001)
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