The Understory

By Rob McRay

Nashville, this was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day!

It was a lie that they would succeed, and like that we were let go for the budget. We kept getting accolades, and then had to tell the kids it was the worst day of our life. But we didn’t throw anything through the window—and we’re proud of it all.

We shook the plant outside and locked ourselves out with the dogs. We clucked vainly at the window with the friendly fireman and the unempathetic policewoman. And we hope Zuzu can’t remember the day grandma jumped the fence.

The pony offered 3 minutes of heaven, but ran loose with a lawn chair. We ran from Famous Nick and his shirtless car wash, when our arm buckled. The bright pink cast prevented swimming—but not lice. But at least we can see them.

We had good expectations over the Sicilian breakfast, when she announced “it’s not you, it’s me.” After our first mugging, we were bleeding from head to foot. At the E.R. we were accused of being in a drug gang. But that was all when we were in another world.

We were hanging out at the hospital to hang out with women, when the incoming arrived. We were the opposite of a medic, but we held the screaming legless Green Beret, while the real medic cried. We started the IV ourselves…only to realize that we started it in a corpse.

A couple of boxes and some trash bags held everything we had…including our keys! The neighbor stranger helped us systematically search, as we discussed Kenyan food. We finally found them in the last bin…just in time. But not in time for a coffee.

The Ninja washcloth fight led to an ear-shattering scream and a shampoo bottle…up our butthole! We repeated the story to doctors, and nurses, and family…and a suspicious social worker. We had a broken tail bone and anal stitches…and believe it or not, the worst part was the bruised ego!

Jerry was the bane of our existence, and we thought fighting with Julia was evidence of our affection. Full of coffee and Cubano, we were hit by gastric distress and a close call scenario. We switched places with Jerry, who shouted that we blew up the bathroom! And a cafeteria full of 6th graders taught us a vital life lesson.

“Where’s Benjamin??” We had left a 6 year-old in a different town…and we had to let his mom go get him. We hurried to get to his game when the blue lights flashed. We missed the only home run he had ever hit…and whatever his father said didn’t help. We ran over a possum—and her babies—forward and back! And we wanted to move to Australia!