As it always is; so should it be written and as it was then; so should it be now. Phrases and quirky little statements have been around forever and always find a way of cycling back into prominence, the way a newspaper always finds appalling items to print. The word "Cool" was used in the 60's as frequently as the expression "You Know" is today. Filling your automobile at a full service gas station was the only option you had. No one ever heard of "self serve", or washing your own windshield. Service was something to bragg about; not avoid!
And slogans were advertised with every major brand of merchandise on the market. Remember the jingle "You'll wonder where the yellow went, when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent?" Well Mike never understood the messages were intended to be catchy! He stuck to his personal arsenal of off the wall slogans. Some that made absolutely no sense at all! More amazing was that he used them all the time. Whenever he was leaving he would say "Tell em where you got it"! Now Glen or I never knew what that meant-- nor where it came from. No other person in the World has used that phrase except for Mike. Another one used frequently was "I guess I better hit the bricks", which again meant he was leaving, but that statement was to inform us he had somewhere specific to go and he would piggyback it with "tell em where you got it".
Then there was one major, quirky, irritating statement he used way to often which was "WHO ASKED YOU!" He injected that one during any conversation he found himself cornered or without a justification to backup his statements. And that particular verbiage brought him many undesirable results, and occasionally a fight. It might have been the snarly tone of his voice or the actual words themselves, however, the outcome was never self gratifying. He upset more people than O. J. being found innocent in a court of law!
Glen on the other hand liked to go "ballin" which meant dancing. Not doing the nasty as it does today. I can still see the look of disbelief on the faces of his kids' when he shared those ancient stories of his ballin days. Maybe that's why they think their Dad was a real Hound Dog. I bet they even believed Elvis wrote his famous song after him.
Myself, I tended to stay with the normal stuff like "Hi" and "Bye" which is probably the total reason this escapade ever occurred.
We were 15 years old the Summer a new warehouse opened near our neighborhood. Seems one day they needed extra help (cheap) to unload a semi-trailer of watermelons. They were paying 65 cents an hour. Wow! With The Fourth of July the following day, the money would come in handy to buy sparklers and snakes. Fortunately, I had also received some bottlerockets my Uncle Harry had brought from Missouri and had one in my back pocket.
We worked hard that day and must have unloaded a zillion watermelons from a steaming hot truck and stacked them neatly in large wooden containers. After they were packed with ice, the containers were forklift into the factory to be shipped to local stores. By afternoon, we were totally exhausted. Our arms dangled by our sides like limp noodles and we barely had the strength to go in and receive our paychecks. But Glen mustered up enough energy and hobbled inside. He was going to pick up the checks for all three of us.
Mike and I sat collapsed in the shade of the dock and waited for his return. We were so busy I never thought to tell Glen and Mike I had a bottlerocket with me. Since they were illegal in Illinois and there were adults all over the place, It wouldn't of been an appropriate time to mention it anyway.
About 10 minutes later Glen returned to the dock with our paychecks in hand. He walked out several dock doors from where we sat, Mike stood and walked to where Glen stopped by the back corner of an empty semi near a pool of melted ice. There were several puddles of water scattered across that concrete dock. They whispered to each other as my gut instinct screamed they were going to pull a con on me. Especially when Glen stood with his back my way. After a couple of minutes Mike began to slowly return towards me. I knew they were up to something. I just knew it! Not one to participate in their practical jokes with each other, and so exhausted I didn't care what they thought, I removed the bottle rocket from my back pocket along with a book of matches. I faced Glen's backside and finger pointed the bottlerocket at him--halfway being silly-- halfway messing around. About then Mike saw it in my hand and started to smile. He had his own idea.
I was determined he wasn't going to stop me or talk me out of it, so I quickly lit the fuse and aimed it in the general direction of Glen. Mike arrived just as that rocket exploded from my hand with sparks shooting everywhere. A split second later it missiled Glen firmly on the back of his right thigh.
Now I was only messing around and merely intended to send Glen a little warning not to fool with my paycheck. I never wanted to hit or hurt him. I was trying to be cute in my own way.
But when that bottlerocket launched into Glen's leg, he let out a warhoop that could of been heard 5 miles down the highway. He quickly snapped his head around and gleered to see what had stung him like a angry, gigantic wasp! And when he saw Mike bent over splitting a gut, laughing and carrying on like he'd seen the most hilarious movie of his life, he automatically assumed it was him. He never gave me a passing thought. Not little ole me.
With a glare--more of anger than pain, he stared at the three paychecks in his hand--then at Mike--then back down to the paychecks-- then back to Mike. By this time Mike had rolled around on the dock laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.
As cool as a cucumber, he withdrew Mike's paycheck from his left hand, crumpled it in his right and tossed it into a puddle of water. Next he proceeded to jump up and down on that puddle of water like a child throwing a temper tantrum in a candy store. Like he intended to embed that paycheck into the concrete itself.
I stood there quiet, meek and mild, half scared he would discover it was me who shot him. But after he demolished Mikes paycheck in the water, he just quietly and peacefully strolled over, handed me my paycheck, and walked down the steps toward home.
We didn't spend the fourth of July together that year and to this day Glen doesn't believe Mike's story on who did it. He thinks I covered up for my friend....Mike however never did get paid..........