I was searching the old blogs to find some filler because I’m not feeling well when I came across this old conversation between my dad, my brother and myself. It was a nice little reminder that when he wasn’t busy traumatizing me through pranks he was handing out some righteous street justice like this.
Dad: Hey, you boys remember the batting cages I used to take you to off of Vandalia?
Me: The one with the Kirby Puckett and Kent Hrbek cardboard cutout?
Steve: Yeah, I remember that place.
Dad: You remember the time I got in an argument with some guy at the batting cages?
Steve: No.
Me: Wait, what?
Dad: Well, you know how you’re supposed to take turns at the batting cages, just one round and then the back of the line? This guy had his kid in the cage and he just kept feeding him money through the cage. The kid did like three rounds in a row. So I went up to the guy and said “Hey, how about giving some of the other kids a turn?”
Steve: What did he say?
Dad: He looked right at me and said “Ain’t no goddamn rules here!”
Me: So what happened after that?
Dad: I started heckling his kid.
Me: Bullshit!
Dad: Really! I was yelling “Nice swing, kid! Swing and a miss!”. They left pretty quick after that.
That’s pretty sweet.
I’m sure that the kid deserved it for playing poorly, and for being a kid…ha ha
OK, I just went and read the old post about your dad’s pranking and he fucking rules. He’s the King of Pranks. If I ever woke up to a clown with THAT thought balloon over my head…well, forget shrieking, I’d piss my pants then pass out from fear. Then I’d laugh as I made my dad change my wet sheets. Love it!