December 2001

Part II: The Summer of '97
The Adventures of Grandpa and Godzilla

And there came to pass a weekend in 1997 when the baseball teams from the American and National League played each other in inter-league competition. On that first Saturday, the Fox Network broadcast the game between the Atlanta Braves and the Baltimore Orioles. This was a day of much anticipation. There was also cause for anxiousness. There was, as it turns out, cause to skip breakfast.

Chapter I: The Ball Game

Noon was fast approaching, and the first pitch was only an hour away. Grandpa and Godzilla walked outside for a breath of fresh air, a smoke, and to find beer. For a festive day such as this, they thought that two eighteen packs of Busch beer would be sufficient…one beer per half inning per person, theoretically speaking. The trick, as always, was finding where someone was selling it. Smokes in hand, they ventured out into the city in search of their beer of choice.

Under a blue, cloudless, summer sky, the friends walked from one store to the next, finding nothing but Sam Adams and Bud Light promotions, and they were beginning to almost become disheartened. But, rather than let a few uppity wine stores break their spirits, the two marched up Main Street to the Rite Aide. They almost always visited Rite Aide last because Rite Aide could be counted on for a reasonable supply of canned beer and boxed wine. (Who, one may ask, could ask for anything more?)

As expected, Rite Aide failed neither Grandpa nor Godzilla.

They returned to Godzilla's apartment a shortly before 1pm. The 36 beers were packed into the midget fridge kept between the long, blue couch and Godzilla's recliner. The television was turned on in time for the National Anthem.

For Grandpa and Godzilla, the National Anthem was very important to watching a baseball game. The Anthem for them was similar to the pledge of allegiance - they were making a pledge of allegiance to Baseball. At the conclusion of the National Anthem, they returned to the comfort of their seats, and commenced drinking beer. They both screamed "O!" at the appropriate moment, which undoubtled startled the neighbors.

The baseball game was about to begin. Their hearts were contented.

They toasted the first pitch of the game. There were few more satisfying ways to spend a Saturday afternoon than by watching a baseball game, beers on stomach and in hand. And this being only the second game played between the Braves and the Orioles, the satisfaction was second to none, except for maybe the previous day.

At the time, this game was touted as a preview of the World Series. The Braves were the defending National League Champions; the Orioles were the current first place team in the American League East, and well on their way to winning their division. As you all know, neither team managed to play in the 1997 World Series, but the heroes of this story did not know that. This weekend series between two very good teams, at the time, seemed to be a prelude to a much greater future.

But the Fox broadcasters, not having taken the same oath as Grandpa and Godzilla, did not treat the game with its due respect. After a half an inning, Grandpa had heard enough.

"Dude, will you turn the stereo on, please. These dumb-ass announcers are pissing me off." complained Grandpa. "Steve Lyons is worse than Mike-freekin'-Regeye." Mike Regeye, of course, being a television announcer for the Baltimore Orioles.

"Take that back, a-hole!" Godzilla threw an empty beer can at Grandpa. "I know you did not mean that. Nobody is worse than that motherfucker."

"Maybe I did, or maybe I didn't. Who cares, anyway? Just turn on some music before my ears bleed!" Said Grandpa, crushing the can in his hand.

"Word to your mother," Godzilla replied as he used his remote control to turn on some Brand New Heavies. The Heavies were going to make Grandpa happy, and generally groove up the apartment.

Godzilla opened another beer.

Grandpa left in the middle of the second inning to use the toilet. While he was relieving himself, Magic Dave called. He and Godzilla spoke for a few moments. He was invited over to the apartment for beers and baseball.

Magic Dave arrived during the fifth inning. He carried with him a six pack of fancy beer. He sat on the couch with Grandpa, kicking his feet up onto an empty stool. He opened a beer and turned to Godzilla, saying, "What inning is it?"

"It's the bottom of the fifth. You are just in time. It's an official game now." Said Godzilla.

"I am glad I did not waste my time coming over," replied Magic Dave.

Grandpa said, "Yeah, it would be a shame if you wasted both your time and your money, Mr. Magic."

"My money?" He asked.

"Yeah, your money. What are doing with that fancy beer?"

"I like how it tastes. I am not trying to get drunk. It's not even three in the afternoon."

Grandpa returned, saying, "I do did not care for such formalities. After all, that is not what Saturday afternoons are about."

"Yeah, so what?" Godzilla added, "I had 4 screwdrivers by 10 AM on Tueday."

Magic Dave was far too sober to begin an esoteric argument with these two idiots about the pros and cons of quality beer. After all, there was a baseball game on the television. There would be time for discussion after the game ended.

At the end of the fifth inning, Godzilla walked to the kitchen and removed a package of ground beef from the freezer, placing it on the middle shelf of the refrigerator. He and Grandpa were planning on eating half pound burgers later that afternoon, and he needed the beef to be properly thawed.

On his return from the kitchen, he relieved himself in the toilet. He left the door open, and yelled at Grandpa from the bathroom. "I held it longer than you did! Ha! Ha! You broke the seal first, you pussy."

Chapter II: The Good Burgers

With the game over, and nearly half of the beer disposed of, Grandpa and Godzilla began phase-two of their plan for the day. While Godzilla started a fire in the Smokey-Joe, Grandpa began forming hamburger patties from the pound of beef in the fridge. Magic Dave had agreed to stay for dinner, so each man was going to eat just one third of a pound of beef.

Earlier that afternoon, one of Godzilla's housemates stole some baked potatoes and rolls from the college cafeteria. Grandpa tossed the potatoes in the oven on a buttered pan. So, once the cheese melted on the burgers, and the potatoes finished re-heating in the oven, our heroes sat down for a hearty and satisfying meal.

Magic Dave eat his food on a plate, but Grandpa and Godzilla eat theirs off of frizbees, because they are geniuses AND gentlemen. The rims on the frizbee made it easy to scoop up small bits of food, and made it difficult for juicy mess to spill on the floor.

After they were finished eating, Grandpa fell asleep almost immediately. While he slept quietly, Godzilla and Magic Dave talked about the day.

"'Zill, did you see how nice it is outside today? How can you justify spending the entire day indoors?" Asked Magic.

"I would have done the same thing had this been a rainy day. I cannot change my plans because of Mother Nature."

"But don't you think you wasted the day? I mean, the rest of the summer will be all hot and humid."

"I can't worry about that, Dave. First of all, considering that all people live to be exactly 100 years old, I have plenty more pleasant summer afternoons in front of me. Secondly, the plan for today did not require sun or rain or humidity to be a success. We expected to watch baseball, get drunk, eat food, sleep, and then play some video games. Everything we do today promotes our being happy and content. We left nothing to chance." Godzilla took a long drag on his cigarette. As he exhaled he said, "This is no experiment, this is science. "

"Sounds good," said Magic Dave, "But what if the power went out?"

"No power?" Godzilla paused, "No problem. We would drink beer and play foosball. Or maybe table hockey. The cat seems to enjoy that more anyhow."

Dave rubbed his eyes and stood up. "Obviously, you have given this much thought."

"Your goddamned right about that, Dave." Said Godzilla.

"And I am going to get out of here for a while. I want to get some air and walk that burger off. I will be back in a few hours." Magic Dave shook Godzilla's hand and left. On his way down the street, he leaned into the apartment window, "Don't touch my beer. Those are for me!"

"Whatever, asshole, I don't need your uppity beer to get drunk!" Godzilla yelled back.

He popped the recliner all the way back, turned on C-SPAN, and drifted off to nap-land.

Chapter III: The Big Jump

Grandpa awoke at 10 o'clock. Godzilla was fixing himself a bowl of ice cream

He mumbled to his friend as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "What time is it? Everything is a blur. Is it Sunday?"

"Shut up, moron. It's not even eleven yet." Said Godzilla. "You have to get your shit together, drink a beer and clean your frizbee so we can start playing Excitebike."

Grandpa shot up out of the couch. "Shit, you're so right. Where is my frizbee?" He found the frizbee on the ground, picked it up and took it into the kitchen.

After cleaning and drying it thoroughly, Grandpa cracked open an ice cold Busch beer, chugged nearly half of it, and burped. "Rad. Are we ready to play Excitebike yet?"

"No, jerk. You need to roll a couple of joints before we begin." Said Godzilla, indignantly.

"That's right." Grandpa smile as he pulled a bag from his jacket. He dumped the contents of the bag onto the frizbee and proceeded to roll three large joints. They had a very efficient system for rolling joints. The last half-inch of the joint was not packed with weed but tobacco. That at once availed any wasted weed and eliminated the need for a clip. When you tasted tobacco smoke, you could place the roach in a special ash tray for later consumption. Such methods often led the two to claim that their "science was tight."

He handed a joint to Godzilla, and said, "You can do the honors."

Once they were both stoned to their satisfaction, Godzilla plugged in the Nintento and popped in the Excitebike Game Pak. Godzilla started by creating a course for Grandpa to race. Then Grandpa would do the same in return.

While Godzilla made a course, Grandpa covered his eyes.

"Dude," said Godzilla, "This course will kick your ass! And if it doesn't, I will."

"Whatever, dude. I am gonna own that course. Your courses are for sissy girls."

Godzilla laughed. "No shit. You are a sissy girl."

"Bite me. Will you finish already and let me kick your courses asses!"

They bantered back and forth for another five minutes while Godzilla 'perfected' the course. He handed the controller to Grandpa, giggling, "You are gonna love this one."

Before Grandpa started, Jamiroquai's album, Return of the Space Cowboy, began playing. "In honor of this disc, I will race this course constantly popping a wheelie."

The course was nothing but flat asphalt. Mile after mile of asphalt. The rider sped along with reckless abandon. There was no end in sight. But as if Godzilla knew the precise inner workings of Grandpa's complicated mind, the moment Grandpa turned to make a wise-ass remark about the irony of a flat track, the mother of all jumps appeared and caused a horrible crash.

Godzilla laughed so hard he had to step outside for a moment.

"That was a poor interpretation of my jump. I felt that I actually landed properly." Grandpa said, meekly, when Godzilla returned to the room with some Sunny D.

"Shut up, I won that round!" Blasted Godzilla. "Now make me a course!"

Just then, Magic Dave returned.

"Mr. Magic," Grandpa said, "Thank god you returned. I was afraid that you would never come back and miss all the fun I am having."

"Oh, don't you worry your little head, Grandpa, I know who loves me."

"That for sure, Mr. Magic." Said Grandpa, reaching under the sofa, and pulling out a joint, "Light this for yourself."

Magic Dave lit up and sat down on the sofa. They passed it around a few times. Magic mellowed out, while Grandpa and Godzilla became more toasted.

Magic Dave ordered a few rounds of Mario Cart, so Godzilla hooked up the Super Nintendo and fired Mario up. They watched Godzilla deftly defeat Donkey Kong over and over again. Donkey Kong was very upset with his poor showing. Godzilla claimed that Donkey Kong was throwing banana peels at him because of his incessant yelling "Take that, you damned dirty ape!"

Hours later, Grandpa, stoned out of his mind, stood up and left. He did not indicate whether he was going for a walk or going home. Either way, it did not matter. He and Godzilla had a great day.

Godzilla wrapped himself in a blanket and went to sleep dreaming of Sunday morning, eggs, toast and an ash tray full of roaches.