You know, writing about Mr. Huntington’s escape from certain death the other day reminded me of another story he liked to tell us impressionable teenage kids. See, Mr. Huntington had something of an adventurous life. He used to say, “Life is about the new adventure.” He’s right and he certainly had a few. From that I created my own philosophical statement about life which is simply, “He who has the best stories wins.” It’s true and Mr. Huntington won a lot.
So one day Mr. Huntington gets a call at home.
Caller: “Hello, may we speak to Mr. Huntington, please.”
Mr. H: “Yes?”
Caller: “Mr. Huntington, we’re pleased to have reached you this evening and are excited to inform you that you’ve won a free, years supply of baby diapers for your newborn infant.”
Now, you see, Mr. Huntington had no children. Even stranger, it was physically impossible for him to have children due to something that happened to him while in the military (more on that later, it’s a whole Thai hooker/needle nose plyers story). So, this was a very strange phone call for him to get, but he liked talking to dumbasses and kept it going.
Mr. H: “Uhh, I don’t have no babies.”
Caller: “Sir, according to our records, you’re the new father of a baby boy.”
Mr. H: “Really?”
Caller: “Yes, sir, and as a reward we’d like to give you a years supply of diapers for your newborn baby.”
Mr. Huntington thought for a moment, allowing for an uncomfortable second or two of silence. Then launched right in to it.
Mr. H: “Wait a second, is the mother’s name Juanita?”
Caller: “Uhm, sir, our records simply indicate you’re a new father because you filled out some form the other day. There’s no mention of the mother’s name.”
This surprised Mr. Huntington because he never filled out any form. But he played along.
Mr. H: “Well, motherfuck me.” (Remember, he likes to say “motherfucker” as one word. “Well, motherfuck me. I know what’s going on. It’s that bitch down in Tijuana what trying to get some money outta me, right?”
Caller: “Sir, I don’t know anything about a Tijuana, but if you could just give us your address so that we can start delivery of your…”
Mr. H: “I told that bitch I wanted no part of that baby. I told that bitch she was just my whore for the night and I was to do with her as I please. I paid her plenty and that’s that.”
Caller: “Uhmm, sir, I don’t know anything about that, but…”
Mr. H: “She wasn’t even all that good. She was kinda snappy! You now what I mean?”
Caller: “Uhhhhhh …”
Mr. H: “Yeah, you know! Snappy! You’ve had it before.”
Caller: “Uhh, what have I had, sir?”
Mr. H: “You know, the snappy bitches! They rides you like you’re some kind of mule and SNAP, they snap your meat hook right off.”
Caller: “Sir, I really don’t know about such things.”
Mr. H: “Course you don’t. You ain’t never had Tijuana Juanita and her snappy snoochy! I mean, yeah, she was cute, but sex ain’t about ripping your homeboy off, you know?”
Caller: “I think there’s been some sort of confusion. I’m going to go now.”
Mr. H: “Yeah, you do that, and tell that bitch Juanita if she’s ever up in my parts, it’s cool, I forgives her, look me up. I mean, she hurt me and stuff, physically, but I can go for another walk in her park.”
Suddenly the call came to an end.
Great story. It’s not true, but that’s another great story.
