Tuesday, November 03, 2009

I Tried to Give My Dad Away A Wal-Mart But they Didn't Want Him

I Tried to Give my Dad Away at Wal-Mart

But They Wouldn’t Take Him.



Last week I had the great pleasure of my dad and his better half’s (his girlfriend) company. Faye is a sweet, spunky individual. Not that her being spunky is surprising. You see, it takes a spunky individual to put up with my old man. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying anything about him that he hasn’t said about himself.

You see, my dad is a smartass. He admitted it while he was here, too. The conversation came about when we were talking about my book reviews and I told him that several people had referred to my writing style as “smartass.”

His retort was, “See, that’s why I should be getting a cut of your royalties. You inherited all your smartass abilities from me.”

My reply to that was, “Yeah, that what’s my mama always said, too, only she didn’t seem to mean it as a good thing.”

His reply was, “Don’t be a smartass!”

That’s when I reminded him of the years he told me that being a smartass wasn’t going to get me anywhere. Obviously, he didn’t deserve a cut of my profits because he tried to change me.

His reply was, “I just told you that to make you mad so you’d work harder at being a smartass. And it worked, didn’t it?”

Hubby passes by and says, “Yup, it did!”

“Watch it,” daddy says to him.

You see, I can say anything about my dad. My dad can say anything about me, but no one better say anything bad about us to each other. It’s a father-daughter thing.

Hubby replies, “I’m talking about her writing. She put a dead guy in a Porta Potty in the book.”

My dad’s reply came quick. “Well, if she put him there, I’m certain he deserved to be there!”

Then Faye, who reads all my books, looks at me and says, “You know, you do get your smart mouth from your dad.”

Fine, I’ll admit it, I might, just might be a chip off the old block. Not that he’s that tough of a block. Oh, he tries to act tough. He claims he hates cats, but three of my four cats decided his lap was a good place to sleep. He claims he hates dogs that slobber and can’t keep their tongues in their mouths, and my daughter’s English Mastiff just couldn’t buy that he didn’t love her. And you know what they say about animals knowing what a person is really made of.

Ahh, but there’s never a dull moment when my dad and I are together. When a waitress asked how he wanted his burger cooked, my dad’s reply was, “On the grill.”

Once at a restaurant when his pork chop was tough, he called the waitress over and with a straight face asked her if they had a hacksaw in the house because nothing less would do to cut the piece of leather she’d just served him.

He loves to pull the wool over your eyes or to just downright embarrass you. And he tried to do that to me on this visit. We were at Wal-Mart and I’m paying for my purchases. He comes up and tells the cashier, “She’s my daughter and she mistreats me. Can you call someone to do something about that?”


Now, this woman doesn’t know my dad and I could see in her expression that she was concerned. I look back at my dad and say, “Shut up, ol’ man!”

Yeah, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say, but I knew if I went right into trying to convince her that I wasn’t abusive, Dad would have too much fun. And hey, we all know a hit dog hollers the loudest.

Dad looks back at the cashier, picks up his cane and says, “She beats me with my own cane.”

Faye, my dad’s girlfriend says, “She does not.”

I swear that cashier’s eyes got round as quarters and she looks at me and tries to sum me up. Was I the type to beat my dad with his own cane?

I shake my head and look back at the woman. “He deserves a good beating. But if you think you can put up with him, I’ll let you take him home with you.”

Faye looks at me, and I’m not sure she appreciates me trying to give her boyfriend away, but hey, she’s not the one he’s trying to get arrested right now.

The cashier looks back at my dad and she sees it, that devilish sparkle in his blue eyes. She shakes her head. “Nope, I don’t want him.”

I laugh and feel victorious. But as I walk away, she says, “But you know, he doesn’t seem all that bad, maybe you should try to be a little nicer to him.”

Dad snickers. I look back at the woman and say, “That’s only going to encourage him. And now if he starts acting up, I’m bringing him back to you.”

She looks at my dad and says, “I’m locking the doors when you leave.”

And I think she meant it, too.

Anyway, we had a great visit. We did a lot of laughing.

Yup, dad is full of piss and vinegar as we used to say back in Alabama, and I’ll admit that perhaps, I inherited a bit of his attitude. Oh, and dad’s right. The guy in the Porta-Potty in Divorced, Desperate and Deceived deserved what he got.

So, what about you guys? Any smartass stories to share? Any father-daughter stories to share? Come on, don’t be shy.

17 comments:

Jenyfer Matthews said...

I'm a terrible smart-ass and I get it in equal measures from both parents :)

It's great spending time with family, isn't it? They understand your humor like no one else. My sister and I nearly killed ourselves laughing one day at the grocery store of all places, just being silly. She told the cashier that I lived in Egypt and the cashier asked me if I was an archaeologist. I looked right at her and said "Yes. Yes I am." We busted out laughing til tears flowed. It was much funnier at the time - guess you had to be there!

Christie Craig said...

Hi Jenyfer,

Your family sounds about like mine, girl!!

And I've had some very funny moments in the grocery store. And hey...I didn't know you were an archaeologist...:-)

CC

vicariousrising said...

My god, you are never going to run out of material for your books!

I love this story. I bet your dad and I would get along just great. Curmudgeons always seem to like me. I think it's my Bambi eyes, but then I open my mouth...

Sandy said...

Hilarious story. Your dad sounds like my husband. Would you like to trade? That way I wouldn't be living with him. lol Kidding!

I loved the picture of your dad and the black cat. We have a black cat and he lays on my husband just like that.

Christie Craig said...

Vicariousrising,

LOL. Maybe you could teach him a lesson then. Blink those bambi eyes at him and then go for throat.

Thanks for stopping in.

CC

dyockman said...

Is this a Smartasses Anonymous meeting? Hi. My name is Danielle, and I am a smartass. But it is all my dad's fault! He has always been a smartass. So naturally, I who am most like him, got that trait in spades. We used to sit in the bar after class (when I was in college and he was teaching there) drinking beer and bullshitting. It was always way funny to have guys come up and hit on me so I could introduce them to my dad. He! He!

Christie Craig said...

Sandy,

I was trying to give him away, not replace him! LOL.

You gotta love those ol' farts.

And oh, it was too funny when the cats all decided he was their friend.

Thanks for stopping in. And give your hubby a hug, if he's really like my dad, he a neat person under all that bluster attitude.

Christie Craig said...

Dyockman,

Welcome to Smartassville. You sound as if you belong here. And yup, I'll bet it was too funny to have guys hit on you and then you introduce them to your dad.

Thanks for stopping in.

CC

MsHellion said...

My dad is a consummate smartass.

Once I was driving my Aunt Helen (his sister) and my dad to various cemeteries (it was Memorial Day); and my Aunt got in the front seat at Dad's insistence. She seatbelts up, and Dad gets in the back--and as I'm about to start the car, Aunt Helen looks at my review mirror, where I have a bunch of Mardi Gras beads hanging off it.

"What's that for?" she asks.

Dad quips up from the back. "Odometer."

"What?"

"Well, when she's going fast, the beads swing backwards; when she's braking, they hit the windshield; and when she doesn't know where she's going, they spin in a circle as she keeps circling the driveway."

And last week when I called to tell him the exciting tale of a snake in my apartment (I hate snakes), his immediate response was, "You need a mongoose."

The man is 87 (soon to be 88) and he gets snarkier every year.

Christie Craig said...

Mshellion,

And I've read your blog comments over the years and can tell you that you take after your old man, too! LOL.

Love the bead story. Of course, it might have been easier for dad to tell that story than, "Oh, she went to Mardi Gras exposed her chest and brought home this prize. LOL.

Thanks so much for dropping by.

CC

Donna Marie Rogers said...

My dad had a dry wit, but he wasn't a smartass...though I can certainly be one!

Your dad and his girlfriend both sound quite charming, Christie. :-) LOVE the mastiff; that's the kind of dog I've always wanted!

TerriOsburn said...

Next to dirty old man in the dictionary, is a picture of my dad. I remember once when I was a little girl, he asked a waitress if she was on the menu. My sister once brought a friend home from college and before she'd even been introduced to my dad, he held out a box of chocolate covered cherries and asked her something I won't repeat.

I'm the smartass of the family, but I think it's a combination of both my parents. My mom is the quiet, innocently looking type, but she's the queen of the straight-faced sarcastic comment.

Things like this:
Me: Mom, it hurts to breathe.
Mom: Then don't breathe.

A gem, isn't she?

Happy to hear you had a good time and thanks for sharing the pictures. My family was in a couple of weeks ago and as usual, I didn't take any pictures. I even forgot to take the camera to my own college graduation. I need a keeper.

Christie Craig said...

Donna,

I would know from reading your books that your parents would have some wit.

And about English Mastiffs...Love those dogs from afar, girl! Now, I will tell you that it's the sweetest dog ever, but the drool and size makes it a big responsibility.

Thanks for stopping in.

CC

Christie Craig said...

Terri,

You mom does sound like a gem! I love dry wit. And believe me, my dad can tell some very colorful jokes, too.

Thanks for stopping in.

CC

Mary said...

Christie,

I was never called a smartass until college when my class mate referred to me as one. It stuck. I usually hide that side of me but when it comes out, what out. :-)

My dad was quite a character but never the smart smartass variety.

BTW, I love smartasses. Probably one of the reasons I love your books.

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