Saturday, October 19, 2013

Never Look a Gift Hick in the Mouth

Did I ever tell you about the time Hick did something nice for me? No?'s not like he's giving me a lot of raw material to work with. But he did do something nice.

It seems like it was only yesterday. Oh. That's because it happened yesterday. He texted me after school with the announcement that he bought me something. You can imagine my excitement, what with the last item Hick even contemplated buying me being a box of Auction Meat. He was all secretive and mysterious.

I encountered him by chance on the parking lot of the local Chinese restaurant, and he showed me something from the back seat that he bought himself at Goodwill. Then he mentioned that he bought me something, too. But didn't say what it was. Or if it came from Goodwill.

Once Hick arrived home, he presented my gift with a flourish. Two pretzels. AND IT'S NOT EVEN MY BIRTHDAY! Of course the pretzels had a pedigree. They were the Coach, the Louis Vuitton, the Gucci, the Jimmy Choo, the Manolo Blahnik, the Louboutin, the Michael Kors, the Prada, of pretzels. Gus's Pretzels. From the city!

Yes, Hick handed them over with a flourish, lovingly wrapped in white paper towel ripped off a roll in a dispenser in a men's room. Because I know Hick didn't go into a women's room for his paper towels. And pretzel-sellers don't package them in paper towels. You know the style. Thin. White. No pattern. With zig-zag Charlie-Brown-shirt-stripe edges where the teeth of the dispenser severed them from the long roll after cranking.

Modest Hick, a man of few words where gifts for his wifey are concerned. No mention of how he procured these two special treats. Yes. TWO! A rod and a twist. No mention of how many hands touched them. Of whether they were bought from a shop or a street peddler, by himself or a minion sent to the city for machine parts.

I had them for lunch today. They were real, and they were spectacular. Though a bit hard on the outside. And they retained their salt!

I'm still kickin', and Hick is off to the auction. Maybe he'll bring me something!

It's easy to spoil Val.


  1. Val--Did you fall into those pretzels while you were wearing a towel? Did you determine their authenticity at a sauna?

    I'm not a fan of Gus. Aunt Annie, yes. But Gus? No thank you.

  2. The bar for pleasing you must be set awfully low. Just kidding. Sometimes it's the simple gestures that mean the most. I hope you're having a great weekend.

  3. I love anything that is "real and spectacular!"

  4. I am hoping they are safer than Auction Meat. I am also hoping that you don't have any problems getting an antibiotic in a timely fashion.

  5. Well let's just hope this spoiling doesn't happen TOO often, or they will start a reality show about you called Pretzillas.

  6. Hick deserves BIG kudos! That's an guy who knows what his lady likes. Guy present, guy packaging. You, Val are blessed.

  7. Sioux,
    I did not. Nor did I go into the sauna for a steam in an attempt to see whether Sal Bass was really Salmon Rushdie.

    I would be a bigger fan of Gus if he was hot and not wrapped in a men's room paper towel. But I'm an elitist like that.

    The bar for pleasing Val is so low that an earthworm would have trouble doing the limbo under it.

    I'm sure you do. Especially if it might be encased in a cashmere sweater with a red dot, or displayed right out in the open by Sue Ellen Mischke before or after wearing her underwear as outerwear, or spotted during close scrutiny of a slightly inappropriate Christmas card.

    Thank goodness I have suffered no ill effects, since my insurance has most likely been overridden to its limit since July.

    I need my own reality show. It would be much simpler than the sitcom of my life, which I started several years back, and only lasted two episodes.

    I almost didn't know it was a present, since it wasn't wrapped in a Walmart bag. Funny thing, I found out he originally bought a bunch of Gus's for the gals in the front office after a trip to the city, then snagged two and wrapped them in paper towels for me.

  8. Val, my husband LOVES Gus's pretzels! I liked them a little bit, way back when I lived in South County and they could be purchased right at a stop light, all full of car exhaust smell and all! :)

  9. Becky,
    I used to see a guy selling them every day on my way home down south from my unemployment office employment by the Bevo Mill. I think he was right there by Carondelet Park at Loughborough and I-55. By the time I passed through, I'm sure they had soaked up enough carbon monoxide to choke a Clydesdale.

  10. My husband would've devoured them before he got them home, so Hick is special!

  11. Lynn,
    I would like to think he showed remarkable restraint. However, it's highly possible that Hick was bringing me a half-dozen, and felt a bit peckish during his commute.