I have this issue my wife refers to as "diarrhea of the mouth". But you know what they say "behind every asshole is an embarrassed wife shaking her head." I don't know when it started, but sometimes I just say or do stuff to get people going. I like the reactions on peoples faces when I say some ridiculous shit. It is my version of crack. If you have been around me for more than 15 minutes, you know that I like to make people laugh. Especially when people have the "too cool for school" mentality, or my personal favorite "super serious guy".
Junior high school is probably around the time that it started. Between telling jokes, or planting glue in someones back pack and informing the teacher he was sniffing glue, I was hooked. The attention, and the laughs I seemed to always need my fix.
Around 8th grade my family started an annual camping trip to Higgins Lake in Michigan. We go with the guys I used to play hockey with, and their families. These guys seem to turn me into a different kind of monster.
A tradition is to go up to an awesome ice cream store called Nibbles, aka Nipples. While we were at Nipples, I sat down with 2 kids at table for no reason at all. They were around 10 and 11 years old, slightly pudgy, shirtless, mullet donning, ice cream covered sticky kids. Where this is normally my place to shine, the kids beat me to the punch and start making sticky faces at me forcing me to laugh out loud. But not to be undone, I took off my shirt too, and started to smear ice cream on my face and mimicked them. We exchanged ice cream covered grins and grimaces until I, being an asshole, took it to the next level. I began stirring my ice cream until it was a pinkish purple color that no other than melted superman ice cream can achieve. I began to cover my hands in the ice cream goop, and then my chest, and face. I looked like a retarded indian, ready for battle. The pudgy kids stared in amazement and started laughing hysterically, so I did the only rational thing I could think of...put ice cream on them too. I started rubbing it into their faces, and pouring it on their chest, even using the spoon to fling some on for a nice little Jackson Pollock effect.
Then it dawned on me...these kids HAVE to have parents. Damn it. Like a horse with blinders on, I got tunnel vision when I saw my opening to make a joke. I looked up and there was what I assumed was mom giving me the look. Not the "lets make sweet sweet love" look, but the "I'm going to fucking kill you!" look. The look that only a seasoned mom can achieve. And just like my mom...I was terrified.
I stood up and started to back away. My friends who have clearer heads than I, had noticed what was going on, and had already headed towards the exits. We casually turned and walked away until we hit the edge of the building and were out of sight. Then we hauled ass. Not the kind of run where you are out for a jog, but the kind of run that you don't even dare to look back because you are a gazelle, and you know damn well there is a cheetah directly behind you. We made it back to the gate of Higgins Lake without the succubus mom in hot pursuit. We began to howl with laughter that can only come down from the bottom of your gut, the kind that makes you hyperventilate, and grab your sides in pain. But the pain is worth it.
I blame my friends for getting me in these situations.
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