I was alone on the deserted, moonlit beach, walking hand-in-hand with Kathy Ireland when . . . Uncle Al called
and I feel better alreadyBrrrring! Brrrring!
The phone call jarred me from my dream. I looked at my battered alarm clock, which read 4 a.m.
"Hellooo, kid! How is everything in Tahiti! Hope you didn't come in off the beach to answer the phone."
Well, I guess you could say I did, Uncle Al. Why are you calling at this hour?
"Whaddya mean, kid? I just finished my beer and cornflakes and it's almost time to watch the Cubs lose again."
That's all right, Al. How is everything back in Chicago?
"Not bad, kid. Our new guy on the White Sox, Albert Bells, hit a home run in the first game -- and he hasn't punched any old ladies yet. So we really like him. Not as much as Dennis Rodham, but maybe he can be that popular someday."
Al, it's Albert Belle and Dennis Rodman.
"Oh, yeah. I always get Rodman mixed up with Hillary Rodman Clinton. Some days they even dress alike. Get it, kid! Haw-haw."
YES, Al, I get it. Did you watch the first round of the Masters on TV?
"Yeah, that Tiger Waters is sure good, especially for being so young. But here's the bad thing. All the kids in the neighborhood keep saying 'I am Tiger Waters' and it's driving me nuts. Plus, they're all hitting golf balls out in the alley, instead of just throwing rocks at each other like they usually do. Your aunt was out tuning up the lawn mower the other day and a golf ball caught her square in the forehead."
That's terrible, Al. What did you do?
"Well, I had to get the neighbor down the street to finish fixing the lawn mower. Then I grabbed the kid who hit the golf ball and stuffed him in a garbage can. I told him that the next time it happened, I would take him to the zoo and his name would be Tiger's Lunch. But then his dad, who's an ironworker, tossed me through the garage door -- and it wasn't even open yet. So I've been laying on the couch for about a week recovering. And the knot over your aunt's eye finally went down."
GOSH, Al. Did you ever think about getting in shape so you could stand up to the ironworker?
"Yeah, I thought about it kid. But it made me drowsy, so I took a nap. Plus, the only people I see out there jogging are already in great shape. That's why people jog and ride their bikes in public, kid, so that they can show off all of the dough they've been spending at the health clubs."
I've never heard that theory before, Al, but maybe you have a point.
"Hey, kid. Do you see more fat guys or skinny guys jogging? Chubby gals or thin gals? Skinny and thin, right? And they look so miserable, like they haven't had a pastrami sandwich or a banana split in months. You know, out of all the guys I know, the one who is in the best shape is the bartender down at Frankie's Saloon on the corner. His name is Bruno and he can pick up the jukebox without breaking a sweat. And all he eats is Polish sausage and hard-boiled eggs. I'd like to see any two of them skinny joggers pick up a jukebox. Or even a pinball machine."
Don't you even take vitamins, Al?
"Nah. Your aunt took me into one of them health food stores once and the first thing I spot is a jar of bee pollen pills. So I told the gal at the counter 'Hey, honey, I bet these will give you a buzz!' But she didn't even laugh -- and your aunt grabbed my ear and dragged me outta there."
You're something else, Al.
"Well, kid. I gotta run. Oops, I didn't mean run. I'm gonna get off the couch today and walk down to Frankie's. Bruno is going to pick up a bar stool in each hand -- with Fat Phil and Jumbo Jake sitting on them.
"I just hope I don't get hit by any golf balls from those Tiger Waters brats on the way there."