I am the chauffeur again, now that The Pony is back home. Not that he agrees to ride with me very often. He's a homebody unless lured out by food. For our weekly takeout on Friday, we chose Little Caesar's. Not Farmer H. He had other plans. But The Pony and I decided on pizza and breadsticks. He made some pointed references to eating the last of his leftovers on the THIRD DAY. So I casually mentioned that I wouldn't feed any pizza to the dogs unless it was sitting out on the counter in their treat area.
Anyhoo... The Pony ordered online, and rode with me so he could go in and pick it up out of the heated drawers, or whatever dispensing system Little Caesar uses now. When The Pony came back to T-Hoe, arms full of boxes and sauces and bags, he made a pointed comment after he opened the passenger door.
"It's not like I could use any help getting the door open."
"Heh, heh! I don't know what you think I'M going to do! I can't lean across the console and reach the door handle. T-Hoe doesn't have a magic button that opens the door like the back hatch. I'm not getting out to walk around!" [The Pony could have a long gray beard by the time I got there.]
The Pony set a 2-liter bottle of Pepsi on the passenger seat, then opened the back door and set my pizza and breadsticks there, along with the extra sauces. Then he closed that door and brought his pizza and breadsticks back up front to eat on the drive home. He climbed up on the running board like a surefooted mountain goat, using nary a hand on the OH BLEEP handle for assistance, and sat down while still holding his food with both hands.
"OH! THAT'S what I sat on!"
The Pony put the pizzas on the dash, and reached behind his back to extract the 2-liter bottle of Pepsi.
"Well, PRINCESS! You certainly wouldn't have felt a PEA! Forget about under a pile of mattresses. You'd have that pea up in your nether regions by now, and not even know it until it started blooming!"
"Hush up! That is not funny."
"Come on! I can see the corners of your mouth trying not to laugh. Admit it!"
"No. I won't."
But I could still see the twitching. A few miles down the road, The Pony started coughing.
"What's the matter, is that pea trying to come out the other end?"
"No. You know I always cough after I eat. Just like Dad always sneezes about 10 times after HE eats. And you always say, 'COVID!'"
"It's still part of my princess joke."
"Which wasn't funny to begin with."
"You know it WAS! Dang it. This car behind me is trying to get into the back hatch like a pea up your butt!"
"Oh, you mean the car that is driving perfectly legally, but DARES to drive on your precious back road?"
"No. It dares to drive like it doesn't have a passenger eating pizza out of an open box, dipping breadsticks in butter, and swigging out of a 2-liter bottle of Pepsi!"
I didn't get a response for that one. I'm pretty sure that INSIDE, The Pony was chuckling. He's an odd duck. A whole different animal from Genius, who I could get to laugh out loud until he couldn't catch a breath.
6 comments:
Swigging that swill spill-free and straight from the 2-liter bottle? Good grief. The Pony is a gifted car eater if he can do that without spilling any. James Corden has "Carpool Karaoke." What kind of show could you and The Pony create?
I bet The Pony was chuckling too, I know I was. how does he manage an open pizza box plus breadsticks and dipping sauce while riding shotgun? And the drinking of Pepsi from the bottle? I would have had that mess falling on the floor numerous times. I prefer to eat at a table, a nice, steady, not-going-anywhere table. With a glass for the Pepsi, which I'm also not allowed to have these days. Haven't had a single soft drink since Christmas 2018.
Sioux,
Yes! It's like The Pony's mouth was made to be a nozzle for the spout of the 2-liter Pepsi bottle! I'm pretty sure The Pony and I would partner up with his friend, 2nd Bestie, for a reality show chock full of culinary delights. Tomorrow's post will provide some framework for the concept...
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River,
The Pizza box was open on his lap. A little container of the garlic butter dipping sauce was sitting on the box beside the pizza. He stuck his waxed-paper bag of breadsticks in the door handle/armrest opening, and pulled them out as needed like arrows from a quiver. The giant Pepsi bottle he set on the floor, bracing it against the console with his lower leg. It got loose twice and rolled around, but the lid was on.
The Pony is actually a neater eater in T-Hoe than he is at the marred coffee table while sitting on the floor and leaning against the couch.
Sorry you can't have Pepsi. But then again, it's PEPSI. Not like it's DIET COKE!!! That's the real tragedy!
I hate diet anything, artificial sugar is a crime against nature, it's just so wrong.
I laughed. I have a vivid imagination, so I could actually "see" a pea vine coming out of a butt. HeWho thinks my mind is bizarre, I feel free to say the things that pop into my head. To him, anyway. You have to get to now me to appreciate some of them.
River,
Don't call the SO VERY WRONG POLICE on my Diet Coke!
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Kathy,
Okay, that made me snort, here in my lair all alone at 2:07 a.m. I appreciate your freely-typed head-popper.
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