Drain Pipe Stories
Happy Wednesday, folks, and a happy birthday to my “little” brother Zakk. I witnessed his birth. Now I congratulate any mother I meet on the herculean effort. If I have one cup of coffee I reference this classic scene. If I have two cups of coffee, and am talking to a pregnant lady, I start singing and dancing, acting it out. For some reason, it doesn’t help ease their nerves.
It’s not exactly as I recall, but it’s fairly close. Zakk always has been infinitely dapper.
But I’ve always been odd. Once upon a time, a family friend lamented about the sewer backup in the living room. Being small and impressionable, this sounded fascinating.
“Hey, got any other drain pipe stories?”
The adults quickly ran dry. “Uncle Tofu”, as we called him, didn’t have any tales of heavy industry. Plumbing is to be avoided, unless you’re a member of a certain illustrious Local.
Unsatisfied, I sat in the back seat of the car, watching the culverts fly by outside the window, great yawning mysteries along the interstate. There was something about them…
I wasn’t the first round draft pick for road trips.
A year ago, I found myself transposed into an Uncle Tofu 2.0, sitting at a table with friends and their antsy kids. “Tell us a story, Mister Josh!”
“Ha, that reminds me of the time I used to ask about drain pipe stories.”
“Got any drain pipe stories?”
What had I done?
“Uh, once I met a troll…”
“You did NOT!”
(Then I was good, my inner child taking the reins.)
“I did!”
Drainpipe stories…
Imagine my delight today.
That’s thirty feet of legends, buddy, DOT-approved.
And they’ll help make a darn nice driveway. My very own culvert. Maybe a small troll can get his start guarding it.
Or an alien.
-Josh