Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
My Porcupine Neighbors
In my life's experience, I've run across at least 7 distinct types of porcupines. The are the kinds you are scared of, kinds you are friends with, and the kinds you want to eat. There are the little ones you wear as earrings, and the big ones you ride into combat. And then there was Mr. Darlborough.
Mr. Darlborough was my roommate from 1974-1981. In those days he wore goggles all the time. You could not talk to this man, or should I say porcupine, for 2 minutes without him bringing up how he had "big plans" to "reinvent how we think about tacos". Big plans? Hardly. His only idea was to simply throw a bunch of tacos at you. This taco throwing mad man cost me $7 in tacos.
Now back in 1974-1981, $7 was a lot of money. We're taco like $40 in nowadays money. So one day I left him a note, like, hey, can I get the $7 you own me for taco repairs and Ron's taco tattoo. He shot a bunch of quills in my eye. Now, back then a quill in the eye was a serious matter. I can't tell you how many times I had found tacos hidden in places you'd never expect. Like in the taco warmer, on the taco shelf, back stage at the taco theater, even once found one in my taco shorts.
Now, every time I said "Enoughs enough" regarding Mr. Darlborough living with me, he would play the pity card. He would tell me "blah blah blah, my parents got hit by a dump truck" or "blah blah blah, I'm a porcupine, it is super hard for me to find a job and a girlfriend" and then he would light his pipe, put on his crown, and dash off into a garden, crying like a baby. And guess who fell for it every time? Yours truly, Bruce Springsteen, "The Boss".
Mr. Darlborough was my roommate from 1974-1981. In those days he wore goggles all the time. You could not talk to this man, or should I say porcupine, for 2 minutes without him bringing up how he had "big plans" to "reinvent how we think about tacos". Big plans? Hardly. His only idea was to simply throw a bunch of tacos at you. This taco throwing mad man cost me $7 in tacos.
Now back in 1974-1981, $7 was a lot of money. We're taco like $40 in nowadays money. So one day I left him a note, like, hey, can I get the $7 you own me for taco repairs and Ron's taco tattoo. He shot a bunch of quills in my eye. Now, back then a quill in the eye was a serious matter. I can't tell you how many times I had found tacos hidden in places you'd never expect. Like in the taco warmer, on the taco shelf, back stage at the taco theater, even once found one in my taco shorts.
Now, every time I said "Enoughs enough" regarding Mr. Darlborough living with me, he would play the pity card. He would tell me "blah blah blah, my parents got hit by a dump truck" or "blah blah blah, I'm a porcupine, it is super hard for me to find a job and a girlfriend" and then he would light his pipe, put on his crown, and dash off into a garden, crying like a baby. And guess who fell for it every time? Yours truly, Bruce Springsteen, "The Boss".
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