My Name's Not Earl But We May Be Related

I’ve straightened up a bit since my youth. While I was no major league hellion, down in the minors I was involved in things falling under the heading of, "never tell your kids." I no longer heave cans, bottles or Grade A Large eggs out of car windows. The environmentalists tell us the ACLU thinks it’s inhumane for prisoners to actually get out and do some work, such as picking up litter. Therefore, we’re all called upon to do our part. So chunk your cans at members of the ACLU.

Not too long ago, Marilyn and I were traveling in her car. When we’re in close quarters like this she has a way of letting me know my breath would offend a buzzard.

"Want some gum?" she says, forcing the package toward my face.

Once I tried to decline but she persisted. As I opened my mouth to object again she banked a piece off the steering wheel right into my mouth. She’s a crafty little feller, that girl. Now, when she offers, I dare not resist out of fear of her possible slam dunk.

At some point in chewing gum the jaws fatigue. The flavor has gone and the soft chewy texture becomes annoyingly Michelin®. On this particular trip, ours reached that point at the same time.

Isn’t that the greatest about being connected with someone so completely? You just do things simultaneously without even trying. Either that or her dominant control of the conjoined marital brain willed my jaws to tire when she had had enough. Either way, from that point on she knew she wouldn’t have to worry about others passing us thinking there was a cow driving the car.

Inquisitiveness is one of her many traits. Having blown quite a robust bubble she showed me so I could admire it. She must have had the "Husband View" option unchecked on her thought bubble because I missed the, "I wonder what would happen?" Having lowered the passenger side window, she tossed out her tired gum with the bubble still intact. I asked for a piece of paper for mine.

"Why not throw it out?" she asked.

"Did you get it off the road?"

"No, it landed in the middle of the other lane. Why worry? It’s biodegradable."

"Not before some other car runs over it and slings it all along its body."

Karma is that cosmic all-seeing mother whose mantra is, "I told you so." For those not acquainted with this belief, Karma says, "Do good and good things will come your way. Do bad and you might end up a politician or real estate developer."

It’s the reap what you sow principle. What goes around comes around. The goblin’s gonna getcha if you don’t watch out.

During my life I may have had a total of three instances where I’ve had to remove gum from the outside of my car. Since she threw the gum out, back this April, she’s had at least three "accidents" (not according to Karma) where she’s come home and brightly colored bubble gum was pin-striping itself down her car. She knows why and she rues the day she nonchalantly tossed her gum.

I would say, "I told you so," but I value my life too much. She is a crafty little feller after all.

Besides, I’m in no position to cast the first stone. Karma sometimes chooses what behaviors it will deal with. Not only was I throwing cans and bottles from cars back when I was younger, but I joked incessantly about hemorrhoids.

© 2006 Michael Wicinski