“For some reason people like to give my Uncle Bloopy free things.”

I NEED AN HONEST OPINION (Downtown)

I’m writing a book and I just want people’s opinion of a few of the stories …enjoy!

TRUE UNTOLD STORIES OF THE MAN THAT WALKS HIS BIKE

Preface

My Uncle Hyde has provided us with a wealth of crazy stories over the years.  Whether it be falling asleep in the middle of the road or raising a hog in his house, he always manages to create unnecessary drama.  The book’s title comes from my uncle being known all over town as the guy that walks his bike. Every time you see him he is walking the bike.  The only time he rides his bike is down the hills. It’s an inside joke with our family that the bike is his GPS navigation and it knows how to make its way back home.

The stories about Uncle Hyde, known as “Bloopy” by family and friends, are all true events that I have witnessed or was told about by several people. Some of these stories will shock you or make you laugh, other stories will make you feel sad or upset you.

Welcome to my world. . .. . .

Despite everything in this book, I love my uncle to death. Alcoholism is a disabling, addictive disorder that can take over one’s life.  I just wanted to share these stories to show what it’s like to deal with an alcoholic individual.  At the time of these stories I was upset; but now, I can sit back and think about some of the things he has done and laugh about them.  I’m not trying to bash my uncle; when he is sober, he is a normal person (almost), not that you would call him a saint.

I think the stories hit home in many families, especially those who deal with alcoholism.  They describe the emotional, verbal, and at times the physical altercations that a person’s family may endure.  I know that many of you can relate to the craziness that addiction can bring to a family; if not, may this book provide you with much entertainment and laughter.

Chapter One: Our Shoes are Wet

Back in the early 90’s, my brother and I were ten and eleven years old.  One day, us kids and Uncle Hyde decided we wanted to get out of the house and enjoy the August weather. My brother and I wanted to go swimming, so my uncle said he would take us to Twin Lake, a popular weekend swimming spot.  While we gathered up our swimming clothes, we thought about his drinking problem.  By that age, we had already learned that for him, consuming vodka was a recipe for something to go terribly wrong.

I told him “Hey, I don’t want to go if you’re going to be drinking”.

He responded, “Don’t worry about what grown folks do, I haven’t had a drink all day!”

Instead of driving, we decided to ride our bikes the three miles from the house to the lake.  Before we left, I checked to make sure he didn’t have a stash of liquor to take on the ride. Soon, we were on our bikes and heading up and down the hills of Highway DD.  In thirty minutes, we could see the lake through the trees, a bright sun reflecting on the water.  After sitting our bikes and shoes by a tree at the front entrance, we ran and jumped in the lake.

Twin Lake was quite crowded that day with families, groups of kids, and a few young couples.  Everyone was laughing, joking having a good time.  After about 15 minutes of splashing around, I looked out the corner of my eye and noticed Bloopy grabbing drinks from a couple of the other families.  Not surprisingly, an hour later he is drunk and can barely stand up.  My brother and I get out of the lake to dry off and here he comes, “Yawl ready to go?”

By his slurred words, I knew right then and there he wouldn’t be able to make it home, so I called my grandmother to come and get us. Of course, no one answered the phone, so we left a message to tell her the situation.  We go back in the lake and play for a couple of more minutes before we get out to fetch to our bikes and shoes.

We are shocked to see Bloopy standing over our shoes pissing on them.  We stand there in amazement wondering what the hell he was thinking.  Mad as hell, we run up there and start yelling at him, “We can’t ride our bike without shoes!”

Bloopy said, again in his slurred voice, “Oh, I didn’t see them there.  Rinse them off, yawl be alright.”

By this time, Grandma was pulling up in her red Buick Lesabre.  After we told her what happened, she got out of the car and started cursing him out.  We loaded up our bikes in the trunk and hopped in the back seat, just laughing and watching him get cursed at.  After this tongue lashing, she told him, “I’m taking the kids home; you know your way back”.

After that incident we never went back to Twin Lake again.

Chapter 2: There has been a Death in the Family

For some reason people like to give my Uncle Bloopy free things.  One October morning, I was lying down in bed relaxing when I heard a truck pulling into the driveway.  I looked out the window and saw my uncle in the passenger seat. He jumped out, went to the back of the truck, and started to pull a large cage off the truck bed. In the cages were chickens of all different shades.  Instantly, I think to myself, “What the hell is he going to do with those chickens?”

I quickly went outside and asked him why he was bringing those chickens to the house.

He told me, “Mind your business, these are my pets.”

I respond, “You can barely feed yourself, let alone some dirty chickens!”

He unloaded the cage and carried the chickens around to the back of the house.  All together there were about 6 chickens.  The guy in the truck said he wanted his cage back and pulled off.  Bloopy didn’t even have any type of shelter built for the chickens yet.  A few minutes later, I looked out in the backyard and he had these huge cardboard boxes trying to build a fence of some sort.  In disbelief, I went out there to tell him that the chickens were going to get loose.  Ignoring my warning, he put the chickens in this so- called shelter.

We went in the house and not even 10 minutes later the chickens were loose running around the backyard.  He said, “They aren’t going to go anywhere!”

Early the next morning, I woke up and heard the chickens in the front yard.  Walking out onto the front porch, I stepped in chicken poop and it was all over the bottom of my house slippers!  Poop was all over the porch and I am pissed!

Immediately, I went around the house to the basement door where he lives and told him to get the chickens and clean up their mess.  I am disgusted by these chickens!!  After scolding him, I went back in the house to forget about the chickens.

About a week later, “Mildred” is the last chicken remaining that hasn’t been eaten alive by coyotes or wandered off.  Late one night, I heard this weird sound in the backyard.  Not thinking anything of it, I  turned over and went back to sleep.

The next morning, my uncle came up the stairs with his head down and said, “There has been a death in the family.  This afternoon we will be having funeral arrangements for Mildred.”

My mother and I started laughing because the look on my uncle’s face was so serious.

He said that the possum got a hold of the chicken last night.  So, the strange sound I heard was in fact the demise of Mildred.  Half-an-hour later, he took Mildred out of the cage and buried her in the backyard.  We went on about our day.

Late that night, I woke up to a loud popping noise and I heard Bloopy saying, “I got you!” along with this popping noise.

I jumped up to look out the window and I saw him shooting something in the cage. He was repeating the same thing over and over again. His words were “I got ya for killing Mildred!”

The next day he came upstairs and said that he killed the possum that killed Mildred.  Being the smart mouth person I am, I said,” Of all the possums in the woods, that could have been a sibling of the possum that killed Mildred!”

Chapter 3: Who ate my squirrel?

One cool Saturday afternoon, my cousin Evan and I were riding around town with grandma running errands. Evan was in the front seat and I was in the back.  On our way back home we had the windows down listening to church music. The only station my grandma ever listened to is 1460am KIRL radio which played spiritual music nonstop. She never wanted to hear the “bumpity bump music” as she called it.  We had our hands out the window waving them up and down to the music.  Suddenly, I hear grandma say “ooh!”; then, we felt a bump in the tires.

I thought, “What the hell, what did she hit and why is she stopping?”

Grandma says,” I think I got it!”

Evan and I asked, “What did you run over grandma?”

Backing the car up, she said, “It’s a squirrel, Nat go get it.”

I answered back, “Huh”?

“Girl go pick up that squirrel before another car comes”.

My face all frowned up, I hopped out of the back seat and started looking for the squirrel.  What I saw made me sick to my stomach.  The furry critter was laying there twitching and still alive!                              I yelled, “Grandma, it’s still alive!”

She hollered back, “It won’t be for long, because I’m going to eat it!”

I ran back in the car and told her, “No way, I ain’t touching it”.

She turned toward Evan with a stern look and without even saying a word, he knew to go get it.  While I watched from the back window, my cousin picked the squirrel up by the tail.

I asked grandma where she was going to put it.

“In the back seat with you”, she answered.

I started to scoot over as Evan was walking towards the car. He swung the door open and acted like he was going to throw it on me.  I yell, “Quit Evan”!  He threw the squirrel on the back passenger side floor and hopped back in the front seat.  I sat there watching the squirrel twitch the rest of the ride home.

As soon as we arrived home, I ran in the house so that I didn’t have to look at the squirrel anymore.  Evan and grandma grabbed the squirrel and our bags from the grocery store.  While I helped put all the groceries away, I noticed that they just put the squirrel in the kitchen sink.  Soon, my grandma began to clean and skin the squirrel.  I was absolutely repulsed to see this, so I went in the living room with the rest of the family that was there which was Evan, Rita, Sandy, Bloopy.

Grandma peeped around the corner and hollered, “Hey, I don’t want anyone to eat my squirrel”!

We all said, “Yes ma’am!” and resumed watching TV.

Later that night, about the time we were all getting ready for bed, I went to the fridge to get some ice water.  Lo and behold, that damn squirrel is in the freezer. I just slammed the fridge and went to bed.

In the middle of the night, I got very thirsty, and on my way to the kitchen I saw my uncle going down the steps with the squirrel. I scolded him, “Oooohhh grandma gonna get you”!

“Go on back to bed”, he told me.

The next morning, we are getting ready for church when I hear grandma yell, “Who ate my squirrel”?

Instantly, everybody ran into the kitchen laughing.  She asked, “Bloopy, Sandy, which one of yawl ate my squirrel”?

Bloopy automatically pointed at Sandy and I just stood there shaking my head.  “Grandma, last night I saw Bloopy taking the squirrel downstairs”.

He looked at me and stuck his tongue out; automatically, I did it back to him.

“Why you eat my squirrel?  I was going to eat that after church”?

Bloopy just shrugged his shoulders and said, “I was hungry”.

Believe it or not, he was sober this time.  This was just a classic case of orneriness.

“I need an honest opinion.”