Summer Plans

And so it came to pass that Saint Garion got engaged. The lord was confused but God saw that it was good. No longer will she be called the enchanting paramour, now she is the bride.

This of course means that we’ve been very busy. I find myself spending too much money and without any time. I’m also trying to imagine what will happen if my crazy ass family and her crazy ass family ever appear in the same room.

God: “Be afraid.”

And there is my Mother, who will never be forgiven for the shit that continues to come out of her mouth, “well if that’s how he wants to live his life…” Now how she failed to pick up on this little point in the five years I’ve been with the woman is quite beyond me.

But the worst bit is the fact that the bride thinks she can swindle me into doing yard work. The bride’s parents have got a big place, but they’ve decided to re-do the entire damn thing before we are married. I was volunteered.

The Bride: “but it’s for the wedding party.”

Saint Garion: “Look, you can’t fool me. That’s your dad’s back yard. It’s hot outside and I’m delicate,” and lazy.

And I don’t care that the guy has a pool. I’m fat: people want me to keep my shirt on. And it is fucking summer and I need to be out of the sun, fully clothed, sitting under a fan with a drink in my hand. If I want to do chores, they’re plenty to do at my place. I do not need to go over to someone else’s house and help them with theirs.

Now when and if the bride reads this I am going to be in deep shit, for about an hour. I’ve probably said enough.

Saint Garion

Bel Garion, who also goes by the name Saint Garion started writing columns in our early years and continued to 2006. He often refers to "The Lord" and "Buddah" which are the names of his dogs which speak to him on a regular basis.

2 thoughts on “Summer Plans

  1. She calls that a backyard!?! I have seen it! More like a jungle back there. And the mosquitos are the size of certain small asteroidal bodies orbiting elder gods as they sing and dance. And it is hot, damn hot, hotter than crushed Capsicum frutescens found between a fat man’s armpit, sitting in a kiddie pool filled with Jack Daniels. This may be the first of many battles, oh saint. Just remember the magic word…not ‘om’…I’m talking about ‘No’. I have learned that useing this word like a two year old will often assist in furthering the cause of ‘the fat one’ more than you might think.

    Yours in being lazy,

    (you better hope no hurricane magically poofs into being around a certain date making all this hair pulling and jumping about meaningless. Don’t make me do it!

  2. A late congradultions!!!
    My computer’s operating system crashed so I’ve been computer-less…just read the good news.

    Hookin’ up seems to treat me ok.


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