welcome to the baldie stories blog.

Maybe you're bald, maybe not, maybe you care, likely not; stories here, some funny, some not.

"Baldie Stories 1" now available for purchase - visit amazon Kindle today! click here; Baldie Stories 1
Stories used for publication of Baldie Stories 1 have been removed from this blog.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

How'd It Happen Papa?

     “Well, first the man, a very smart man, an engineer - just like you might be if decide against the trapeze – this man, he figured out how to make this, see this here? Spun steel cable! And then he worked real hard with his own son, just like when we work together on our block bridges…”
     “Big brok-ridges Papa!”
     “Yes, and it took a lot of convincing, a lot of people didn’t believe it, and some people, they weren’t nice, didn’t play nice..”
     “No hitt-ink, no bush-ink, no cream-ink, no nice!”
     “That’s right! The whole family gave their lives for this thing, they lived it into being - from the sweep of the great span right down to every single nut, bolt and screw! The whole thing; from here clear over the East River! They weren’t out there boozing it up, wasting their youth, tussling about in the dark, bits of’em stuck in zippers, hooked on this, tied on that and sinking on the other thing! Oh no! These were strong willed visionaries with unbreakable determination! Gifted talents, practical! No mushing about with selfish delusions, spiritless indulgences, ghostly hangovers of the Sixties – these people weren’t whiners and nose-pickers! Hey, get that finger out of there!”
     “My got boogies on hiss figer, Papa!”
     “Ah, I see that and a smile on your face, my Little Bag of Onions!”
     “How’d it happen Papa!”
     “Well, that’s what I’m telling you, don’t you see? You already asked me when we stepped onto the bridge – and what’s the name of the bridge?”
     “Ookland Ridge, Papa!”
     “That’s right! Brooklyn Bridge, don’t you forget it! Two years old and walking over the Brooklyn Bridge with your old man, asking how it happened – what a question! Your grandfather, my Papa, he would be proud – an engineer himself, not to proud of his own son, all that fooling around I did, screwing off! Crap and a half! Don’t say it to Mama! He’d bail me out of jail and cluck like an old hen over the striped failure you call Papa! But you; look at’ya! Strong and smart and… wipe that off your finger now – I told you about that…”
     “How’d it happen Papa?”
     “I said it! Determination! Fortitude – no wasting time making meatballs, and the hair, they had hair up and down’em! Even the dog had a beard, I’ve seen the pictures – not like you’re old man, sorry to say – if you’re lucky you got most of what you need from my old man and Mama’s old man and…”
     “Big boogies, more! How’d it happen, Papa?”
     “Why what are you yammering about Soup Spoon… your asking about the bridge, right?”
     “Boogie-Boogie-Boogie-Boogie!”
     “OH dear! Okay! Trapeze it is! I can live with that! You can be anything you want – just like Mama says! I got your back! No hemming and hawing! No half-way and no poking fun – you don’t have to build a bridge to get my love and respect – maybe respect – I’ll have to work on that – I got some time! We can go home, stop at the toy store on the way, buy more blocks, not for nothing! Here we are, on the other side of the bridge! Two years old! I’m proud of you Little Man!”