It was a dark and stormy night. Or it would have been if it wasn’t a beautiful balmy Sunday afternoon in the middle of a Californian Spring. Truth be told, there was nary a cloud to be seen (sorry, there’s still a few pirate words hanging around), but a storm was brewing inside the house, one that would change my life forever.
ET and I were doing what we did best, smoking waccy tabbacy and idling away the hours talking about the things we should be doing, when suddenly the phone rang (ok, it didn’t ring any more of a sudden than it usually did, but this is a story, so everything has to have an adjective, or in this case an adverb). It was MDW. Both ET and Mrs ET (although she wasn’t at the time), had known MDW (who also wasn’t yet) for a long time, in fact ET had travelled extensively with her and Chuck (maybe more on him later) in South East Asia.
This shared experience was not looked upon fondly by Mrs ET, who was at the time trying to ensnare ET on a long term basis, so a phone call from MDW was about as welcome as a fart in a space suit. There was an ensuing conversation between ET and Mrs ET full of hushed tones and strained looks, with the upshot being the statement to me to the effect that "MDW needs you to go and help her put some carseat covers on". Now if you’re anything like me (and even if you’re not), you’d be thinking 1) why would she need me, she doesn’t even know me and/or, 2) why would she need help putting carseat covers on?
As it happens, she didn’t ask for me because understandably, in much the same way as I didn’t know her, she didn’t know me too. (now that’s some English right there!) What had transpired was that Mrs ET put her foot down, and ET put his in his mouth and volunteered me for the job to get Mrs ET off his back (if you knew Mrs ET you’d know this was not a comfortable position to be in, we’re talking serious back strain). So it was with high hopes and a hard member that I threw my bike in back of ET’s pickup and we headed to MDW’s apartment, where ET dropped me and my bike off, and then took off like the scurvy bilge rat he is!
Both my high hopes and my hard member were dashed when I realised that MDW really did just need a hand getting the seat covers on, and it wasn’t simply an elaborate ploy to get her some man meat. But the deed was done and here I was, plus there’s no way Mrs ET would have ever believed that MDW wasn’t after her fella, so it was probably all for the best. Anyway, these bastards weren’t your usual stretch terry towelling numbers, they were the real deal, made out of the same vinyl as the originals and were even the same colour. They were, in fact, a DIY reupholstering kit that required the removal of the seats and a couple of hours of genuine grunt work!
However, and if you’ve been reading me for any length of time you know there’s always a however, we eventually got them on and then retired to her apartment for some refreshments and stimulating conversation. Well, at least that’s how I saw it…
Filed under: Serials |