A MIDDLE AGED MAN AND LITTLE CHILDREN

I love children, I really do. Especially when they are between three and five years old. But, lest you now jump to hire me as a baby-sitter, I should mention that there are reasons why people keep me away from their kids.

Some of my friends even send the kids out of town when I visit.

Others just make sure that the kinderlech get no opportunity to talk to me.

It: "Uncle BOTH, why do cars move?"

Me: 'They are desperately trying to get away from their butts.'

It: "Why?"

Me: 'Because they are full of gas - that's why they make those put-put-put sounds as they flee.'


--- --- ---

It: "Uncle BOTH, why are there no dinosaurs here?"

Me: 'San Francisco is too crowded for them so they all moved to Las Vegas.'


It: "What do dinosaurs eat?"

Me: 'Pizza, extra large, with all the toppings and piled with anchovies, just like everybody else in Vegas.'


It: "What do dinosaurs do?"

Me: 'They work as lounge singers in Las Vegas. They're very popular with old people.'

--- --- ---

It: "Uncle BOTH, why is the sky blue?"

Me: 'That was the cheapest colour the master of the universe could find when he repainted; it used to be puce.'

It: "What's puce?"
Me: 'Kinda like dog poo.'

It: "What is the master of the universe?"

Me: 'Someone with lots of spare time since the kids all moved away and no longer call.'

--- --- ---

It: "Uncle BOTH, why do we celebrate Jesus' birthday?"

Me: ' 'Cause we're close to Mexico.'

--- --- ---

It: "Uncle BOTH, why did Pooky scratch me?"

Me: 'He thought you were filled with candy, just like your older brother.'

--- --- ---

It: "Uncle BOTH, why did my aunt die?"

Me: 'Spite.'


See, there's a reason people keep their little darlings from talking to me.
I talk back.

This past weekend was fleet-week weekend here in San Francisco. Which always coincides with Columbus Day. This means drunken sailors, lots of goobers, and a loud air-show over the city featuring dare-devil biplanes and the Navy's own obnoxiously loud Blue-Angels. Lordy, I hate the sound of jets roaring overhead. It's a stupid, hubristic display of testicular exhibitionism.
But first, idiots doing loop-de-loops in biplanes.

It: "Uncle BOTH, what's that buzzing?"

Me: 'That's a very rare insect, the Columbus Day mosquito, which only comes one day a year.'


It: "Is it dangerous?"

Me: 'Oh, very. The Indians hate Columbus Day, because it killed so many of them.'


It: "Will it kill us?"

Me: 'No, Boruch Hashem, because we have large blue phallic fly-swatters that fly through the sky and chase it away. If you stare at the sky long enough you'll see them. But until then, you've got to run around in circles very fast so that the Columbus Day mosquitoes can't catch you. It hurts like heck when they do.'

It: "Uncle BOTH, why aren't you running?"

Me: 'Cause I'm not young and juicy but old and knackered - do you see anyone biting me? You, on the other hand.... so soft, so tender, so very very sweet. Quick, there's one right behind you!!! Run! Run! Run! Run faster! And make some noise!'


All things considered, I had a very fine weekend. Even though there is now yet one more kid I'm not allowed to talk to.

At least she'll always be wary of the Blue Angels.
Or other things in the sky.

But mostly Blue Angels.



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