The Pony is Full of Dis and Vinegar

With The Pony home from college, Hick and I have grown accustomed to things... um... not working as they formerly did. Only Friday, we finally received our replacement La-Z-Boy. Which is not so much a La-Z-Boy as a rocking recliner.

Anyhoo... the new chair (name yet to be bestowed) was in. Hick was out, having gone to help back-creek neighbor Bev with an electrical issue. The Pony was halfway between having his nightly two-hour soak in the big jetted triangle tub, and fetching a gallon of vinegar from T-Hoe's rear (for cleaning hard-water residue from the tub). I was on the short couch, having conversation with the elusive Pony.

He was standing behind the new chair, over my left shoulder. He KNOWS I hate people behind me. Anyhoo... I sensed movement from my peripheral vision, and turned to see what shenanigans The Pony was up to THIS time.

HE WAS SWINGING THAT GALLON OF VINEGAR LIKE A PENDULUM!

The problem being that right behind him, about 2 millimieters from the apex of his vinegar-swing, was Hick's curio cabinet. With the glass doors.

"You really need to stop that. I have visions of the glass shattering from your carelessness."

"Oh, you mean like it did when GENIUS broke it?"

"Yes. Like that."

"And blamed ME?"

"You didn't deny it."

"I didn't think to. Besides, I was barely talking yet."

"It only took a couple years for him to confess."

Anyhoo... the curio cabinet survived. But I almost did not, the next day, when I drove The Pony to Walmart, and loaned him a pen to mark off items on my list.

I had just pulled into the garage when The Pony said,

"Oh, here's your pen."

A PURPLE PEN SHOT PAST MY HEAD LIKE A RAZOR-TIPPED ARROW!

Even The Pony had to the good sense to look alarmed.

"I didn't mean that! It got away from me!"

"You SAY. Your dad only has one eye, and now you're trying to take one of MINE!"

"It missed you! Here. I'll get it."

I can't stay mad at The Pony for long. He's a congenial sort, though clumsy-dangerous to the point of possibly excelling at a career as an assassin. I was once again on the short couch, and The Pony in the new chair, behind his laptop, watching The Simpsons.

"I have a new conspiracy to share with you. But FIRST..." I reached over to pick up the ink pen that stays on the side table. Just for safekeeping. "I want to make sure no unfortunate event befalls me. I'll just keep this until I'm done."

The Pony gave me a wary look. Like I was going to shoot that pen at HIS head like a throwing star. When I started the introduction to my newest conspiracy, The Pony picked up the remote control and JACKED UP THE SOUND ON THE TV so I had to yell. He laughed.

That made ME laugh.

"Staaaahhp! I can't breathe! I sound like Muttley!

The Pony laughed some more. He turned down the TV. But as soon as I started talking again, he jacked it up.

"NOOOO! Give that... that... reTOEte!" (It's the remote that I caught him holding with his FOOT a few weeks ago).

Then The Pony laughed like Muttley.

"Do you want me to hand it to you, with my FOOT?"

"NO! For the love of all that is not-Not-Heavenly!"

It took us a while to restore our oxygen levels to normal.

I don't get no respect!