easyblog THAT WAS THE DAY…

…MY MOM WAS BORN…

This time at Bacon’s SHOW&TELL we have a special topic… the day we were born… I can’t remember that day and my dad feels the same, so I tell you the story about the day my momma was born…

… it was a special day, because all things went wrong… what else…

It started on a sunday, where my heavily pregnant granny was at home with her pawrents and my grampy had to stay at the barracks, because they were in alert and my grampy was a cadet that time. So granny had lunch with their pawrents where she ate like a horse… or better… like an elephant. Her mom warned her not to eat a truckload of that butter cream cake they had for dessert, butt my granny was just about 19 years old, still a stubborn teenager and said: who cares, I’m fat anyway, so hand over the rest of that cake… and all that foodables  landed in her tummy…

The day before my granny’s pawrents got a giant pile of coal and while they brought that coal in, my granny sweeped away the dirt and the crumbs  . That’s a dirty job, you look like a coalminer within minutes and after my granny was as dirty as a wild boar, she suddenly got labors and because she is not really a Drama Queen, butt a Drama Countess she screamed like an air raid siren and claimed for a ride to the hospital immediately. Their neighbor was so kind to drive the granny  to the hospital and there the mischief started….

First they brought my coalminer granny to the bathtub, to see who she is. Then they decided that she needs a clyster because it isn’t good to enter the delivery room like a well filled fridge…. and there the misadventure of my poor momma started…

The granny spent 87 hours at the ladies booth to dump all the food… and that was the reason that my granny didn’t became a sundays child like planned and expected… she entered this slice earth at 0:37 pm and became a MOANDAY BRAT. And there we have it and you know why things are like they are in my crib…

My grampy got the information that he is a dad now, butt he couldn’t leave the barracks…. butt  his commander said, ok buzz off, butt be back within an hour…

The grampy had a motorbike and rushed to the hospital in his combat suit.  They showed him my momma and he said: uh, it looks like an ole grumpy man… or a wrinkled prune… is that normal?

any similiarities are pure coincidental…just saying…

He survived the sh*tstorm of the delivery nurse and my granny, butt with  a super bad conscience… and that was the reason that he said yes, as my granny demanded he should bring her home if he is anyway there, so she can spare the taxi cab…

Butt as they left the hospital, he noticed TWO things: the hour was over and it could lead to wagging tongues to transport  a new mom and a wrinkled prune on a motorbike. So he borrowed the car of granny’s uncle Walt: a GOGGO with ginormous 12.8 HP,  it was a coupè and screaming red…

The grampy delivered the granny and the wrinkled prune to her pawrents, grabbed some tomatoes he saw on the table what he placed in his helmet and because the time was high he rushed to the barracks… and there he got the shock of the day…. all were gone… marched out to a field day… what the french toast…

The two guys on the gate what were conscripts laughed and said that my grampy is as deep in the bucket as somewhat… but they felt sorry with my grampy and told him what drill ground they use this time.

And so cadet grampy and the screaming red GoGGo were on the way to  battle drill.

They came too late ( 12.8 HP) and maybe it had ended well, if my grampy hasn’t parked the screaming red ride between all that tanks and military equipment…. but he did and was seen by a guy with much gongs efurrywhere as he meandered around on the way to his buddies… The guy stopped my grampy and asked him if he thinks that’s the adventure club with custom arrival and why to all darned hells he wears his helmet not on his empty nut but on his arm like a pitiful handbag… or is there  soup in that helmet? The grampy said no, tomatoes… that was the truth but told at the wrong time and so the new dad of the wrinkled prune spend the time not at the drill ground but alone in a booth and instead of a helmet full of tomatoes he got  a truckload of trouble and the promise that his career is a fart in the wind.  Butt the god of the dried plums or the one of the tomatoes must be with him that time, that he got his appointment some weeks later without problems. And after a while even uncle Walt started to talk with him again, because he was as sore as 87 lemons as he had to pick up the GoGGo in the middle of nowhere… and all that because of  butter cream cake…