According to George
According to George:
The sign at the pool meant to indicate “No Running” was confidently translated by George to mean: “No Picking Your Butt at the Pool”.
Lying in the hammock together under the shade of an oak tree in the backyard, with a fresh cut lawn under our feet and a cold drink in our hands, I whispered to George, “Isn’t this heaven?” George shook his head no, “This isn’t heaven” he said. I said, “But it’s like heaven cause I feel so happy being right here together with you.” George reiterated, “This is NOT heaven.” I said, “What do you think Heaven is like?” He said, “It’s not a happy place.” I said, “No?!” He added, “it’s underground.” Realizing he was perhaps confusing Heaven with another eternal destination I suggested, “Do you think you’re thinking of the other place? The place where the Devil lives? What’s that place called?” George proudly proclaimed, “China!”
Bear was explaining to George that he had to attend a funeral on Monday so he wouldn’t be home right after work, he’d be home after George was asleep. George asked how come he had to go to a funeral. Bear explained that someone had died. George wanted to know who died. Bear said it was someone he knew when he was growing up. George wanted to know if he was older than Bear. Bear said no, he was younger. George wanted to know if he was bigger than Bear. Bear said, no, he was probably a little shorter. George wanted know how much shorter he was than Bear; “Did he come up to HERE on you?” Bear said no, but he probably came up to HERE on him. George asked why he died. Bear said, “cancer.” George exclaimed, “Everyone dies from cancer!” and then quickly qualified with, “well, not everyone. Not Army people. They die because they get shot, not because they have cancer.”
I commented to George that he must have decided to change his name again because his shirt said “Tommy” on the pocket. He said, “No!! My name is George!” I said, but it even says “Tommy” on the tag, so it must be your name if it says it in two places! George didn’t believe me that his tag said “Tommy” so we turned his shirt around so he could see the tag and see that it did, in fact, say “Tommy” (Hilfigger). And that’s how George got his Mafia name: Tommy Backwards.
The sign at the pool meant to indicate “No Running” was confidently translated by George to mean: “No Picking Your Butt at the Pool”.
Lying in the hammock together under the shade of an oak tree in the backyard, with a fresh cut lawn under our feet and a cold drink in our hands, I whispered to George, “Isn’t this heaven?” George shook his head no, “This isn’t heaven” he said. I said, “But it’s like heaven cause I feel so happy being right here together with you.” George reiterated, “This is NOT heaven.” I said, “What do you think Heaven is like?” He said, “It’s not a happy place.” I said, “No?!” He added, “it’s underground.” Realizing he was perhaps confusing Heaven with another eternal destination I suggested, “Do you think you’re thinking of the other place? The place where the Devil lives? What’s that place called?” George proudly proclaimed, “China!”
Bear was explaining to George that he had to attend a funeral on Monday so he wouldn’t be home right after work, he’d be home after George was asleep. George asked how come he had to go to a funeral. Bear explained that someone had died. George wanted to know who died. Bear said it was someone he knew when he was growing up. George wanted to know if he was older than Bear. Bear said no, he was younger. George wanted to know if he was bigger than Bear. Bear said, no, he was probably a little shorter. George wanted know how much shorter he was than Bear; “Did he come up to HERE on you?” Bear said no, but he probably came up to HERE on him. George asked why he died. Bear said, “cancer.” George exclaimed, “Everyone dies from cancer!” and then quickly qualified with, “well, not everyone. Not Army people. They die because they get shot, not because they have cancer.”
I commented to George that he must have decided to change his name again because his shirt said “Tommy” on the pocket. He said, “No!! My name is George!” I said, but it even says “Tommy” on the tag, so it must be your name if it says it in two places! George didn’t believe me that his tag said “Tommy” so we turned his shirt around so he could see the tag and see that it did, in fact, say “Tommy” (Hilfigger). And that’s how George got his Mafia name: Tommy Backwards.
Comments
Of course heaven would not be a good place right now; you are not there for him… maybe later. Much, much later.