Recently I posted a story that was written by my cousin in Oklahoma regarding a visit he made to San Diego many moons ago.
I indulged this non-fictional fantasy because he is like a bison.
Rare, extremely hairy and could crush me with his mighty hooves on a moments notice.
I promised then to reveal the TRUE story of what happened and let the chips fall where they may.
Plus he lives pretty far away and would have to travel really far to harm me.
History lesson….history lesson.
My parents were born and raised in the beautiful state of Oklahoma and because of this, many of my cousins, in-laws and outlaws still live there.
Now all of you have a relative who is renowned within the family clan to be a little off kilter.
You know.
One taco short of a combo plate…….
Not the brightest candle on the cake……
Not the sharpest knife in the drawer…….
You get the idea….
My cousin is that relative.
Certifiable and yet loveable all at the same time.
He may be crazy, but he is OUR crazy!
Many moons ago when I was a youngster, my mother told us that the doctors recommended he be released from the home for a few weeks and shipped off to “Cal-Eye-For-Knee-A” for a little rest and relaxation.
Her admonition to us was, “Just be nice to him and make sure all the knives are locked up.”
Now because we are polite folks and have always enjoyed human oddities, we waited with baited breath to welcome “Mr. Looney” to our fair city.
The day he arrived we were all so excited!
Not only was the famous “Crazy Cousin” here but we actually got to talk to him and see if he really did wear his clothes inside out.
Because he lived in the great state of Oklahoma, which for all of you folks that are geographically impaired is in the middle of the United States, he told us that he had never seen an ocean before and was incredibly excited to witness the majesty of the pounding waves.
So we donned our demure 60’s beach garb and drove on down to the shore to give the guy a peek.
For any of you who have ever watched the movie, “Blast From the Past”, there is one scene where Brendan Fraser sees the ocean for the very first time. He is wearing a pair of roller blades, skating on a sidewalk near the beach when he catches his first glimpse of the water.
He is overcome with awe and excitement, proceeds to throw off his skates and bolts to the waters edge screaming with joy and wonder. He then flings himself into the surf, laughing, leaping into the air and howling with delight!
Adorable in the movie.
Kind of embarrassing to witness it firsthand.
People gathered around to watch the Oklahoma maniac as he ran into the surf screeching, “Look, it’s all wet and foamy!!!!”
My sister and I hid in the bushes lest someone realize we were related.
After 20 minutes or so, and with the aid of a few concerned sunbathers, as well as the harbor police, he calmed down and plopped himself down on the sand.
At this point he spied the jetty which was jutting out into the salty sea and insisted on exploring its wonder. Because our Mom had warned us to be nice to her nephew, we indulged his curiosity and led him over to explore the black and slippery rocks.
While we were walking down the perilous outcropping, he noticed it was the home for many beautiful starfish.
In the manner of the “little boy at heart” that he was, he said, “Those are amazing, I must possess some of my own!”
We told him, “Cousin, these are fantastic creatures of the sea and must remain in their rocky home lest we destroy the ecosystem!”
He said, “I don’t care. They are prettiful and I want to take some home in my suitcase and show my Okie friends and family!”
To which we replied, “Whatever.”
Meanwhile during this brilliant conversation as we were perched on the slippery rocks, we noticed a monstrous , thundering wave headed directly toward his unsuspecting carcass.
So of course we did what any red-blooded cousin would do.
We said nothing.
It wasn’t pretty…
Us; “Hey, you need to watch out for those waves!”
“We realize you don’t have them in the cement pond you have back home.”
“They crash onto the rocks every minute or so and will crush your body with their mighty power.”
Him: “Ouch.”
So after prying a few magnificent starfish from their watery domain, as well as a few crabs off of his bloody derrière, he proceeded to haul the starfish to the parking lot where he placed them on the hood of the car to sizzle torturously in the blistering sunshine.
This is the same person that probably enjoyed frying ants with a magnifying glass when he was a tot.
When we got home he called an aquarium to ask about the process of preserving these unusual echinoderms for posterity and his future enjoyment.
Apparently the instructions were lost in translation.
Bottom line of the story.
He packed them meticulously into his suitcase only to open it upon his arrival at home to the worst stench imaginable.
Second only to his swim trunks after that long day at the seashore.
It was rumored that my Aunt ran gagging to the bathroom screaming, “Just close it, just close it!”
And for once, she was not referring to his mouth.
Every since that fateful day, for the last bojillion years, my cousin has done every thing in his power to silence me forever regarding this taxidermy tragedy.
This includes strapping me to the back of his motorcycle, face to the asphalt for a “sightseeing tour” of the Oklahoma back roads near his home.
The latest attempt at squelching my ability to tell this sordid tale, was a visit to an antique shop in a tiny town on the outskirts of Owasso.
This place had a backroom that resembled a medieval torture chamber and as we walked toward its cavernous door he kept murmuring, “Just a little farther, just a little farther.”
Luckily, there was a little bitty bird sitting on the dusty floor who whispered, “Watch out lady, there is a guy behind you with a samurai sword.”
I got out just in the knick of time.
He then took me out for breakfast where they served me an old fashioned, “down home cookin" meal of 7 eggs, a mixing bowl of gravy, 2 pounds of hash browns and 6 sausage links.
Guess he figures death by heart attack is better than nothing at all.
Ah, my cousin……
Starfish scavenger, windmill jockey, antique hunter and motorcycle maniac.
As I said before, he may be crazy, but he’s OUR crazy!
……I’m just sayin’
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