The Trooper

I was musing about Groundhog Day earlier.  I’d like to come right out and say that it’s a stupid holiday… I don’t even want to call it a holiday, but it’s on the calendar… so let’s say it’s a stupid tradition.  I won’t insult anybody’s intelligence by actually outlining the reasons I think it’s retarded to base your expectations of winter on whether or not a large rodent sees its shadow.  (Hey, did you know that groundhog is just another name for woodchuck?)

Anyway, on to my musings.  Everybody knows the rule: If the groundhog sees his shadow (why a specific groundhog? What if there’s one who didn’t? And wouldn’t it depend on time of day, direction he’s facing, and lots of other shit?) then we can expect "six more weeks of winter."  Well, exactly what does that mean?  Six more weeks following Groundhog Day?  Well, no shit.  There are, guess what, actually six weeks from Groundhog Day to the first day of Spring.  I’m serious, look at a calendar.  From February 2nd to March 20th is roughly six weeks.  Or does it mean six extra weeks of winter after winter should be over?  That would be the real tragedy, and can happen.  I seem to remember near- to sub-freezing temperatures on into April, even here in the South.  And if he doesn’t see his shadow (and why is it always a male groundhog?), what then?  Does winter end six weeks early, as in right then and there, on Groundhog Day?  Or does it merely continue till the expected first day of Spring?  Groundhog Day is more stupid than fearing Friday the 13th.

Incidentally, I’m very fond of the movie Groundhog Day.

I want to talk now about my friend Greg, whom I haven’t seen in almost four years.  Or, more specifically, I want to tell a couple of stories of some of the shit that happened to Greg in the years that I’ve known him.  I’d like to mention that I’m involved in nearly none of these things.  I’ll keep them as short as possible so as to get as many events down as possible.

Probably the most memorable thing that ever happened to ol’ Greg was the time a bunch of other guys decided to go roll his yard.  These were all friends of ours, or at least were masterminded by one of Greg’s closest friends (at the time), a fellow we call Maness.  They went in the middle of the night to the house that Greg lived in with his mother and step father and commenced a’rolling, only to have Greg, who was somehow expecting them, charge into their midst wielding a (nonfunctioning) BB gun.  Weird how much those things pop up in my stories.  Anyway, since the damn thing didn’t work, Greg decided to use it as a club.  But Maness and accomplices were already in their vehicles, so Greg only managed to bash the hell out of Maness’s trunk lid before they got away.  Maness tried to make Greg pay for the repairs.  He didn’t succeed.

Another time, Maness was over at Greg’s house just hanging out.  Greg had a twenty dollar bill laying around, and Maness joked about taking it.  Greg basically told him he better not, and went to the restroom.  Maness moved the twenty from wherever it was to Greg’s bedspread, effectively camouflaging it, and left.  Greg burst from the house after him screaming something along the lines of, "Give me back my money you son of a bitch!"  Maness insisted that he didn’t have it (though, knowing Maness I’d have been just as suspicious) and tried to keep driving.  Greg simply lay down on the gravel in front of the car saying, "You’re not leaving with my money!"  Maness, for whatever reason, simply gassed it and fucking ran Greg over.  Greg got up and limped after, and I’ve always envisioned him shaking his fists in the air like Skeletor after another sound defeat by He-Man.  I’d never have believed the whole story, you know, Greg being run over and surviving with no real injury, if Greg himself hadn’t confirmed it.

Don’t let me make ol’ Greg out to be simply a victim (even a seemingly indestructible one) because it’s not the case.  This is the same guy who told several folks that were staying at his house, when they started talking about being hungry, that there was no food.  He then proceeded to go downstairs and bring back a footlong Subway sandwich he’d been saving, which he ate all by himself.  And then did so again several hours later, after everybody else had gotten pissed off and decided to go buy food and come back. 

That’s all for now kids.  I’m enjoying telling stories about my friends.  I hope they’re as enjoyable to read.