In case one of you ever read one of my panty sniffing tales, well I have to admit although they contained bits and pieces of my life`s experiences, there was a little bit of fiction in both..Just something I did to contribute some humor to the Rubber room...But do not be disappointed, I have sniffed my share of panties
The following tale is 100% non-fiction...
The victim was a neighborhood kid named Omar Hexxxxxx..He was one of my daughter`s friends and hung out in my front yard along with other kids from our block. I guess the kids would come around seeking sanctuary as I`d like to believe I am one of the cooler parents..
Omar was a bit of a prankster and a wise ass himself, for the record..
One Sunday awhile back I overheard him talking to some kids about his application to the US Post office and how it would change his life and he was eagerly awaiting their reply. I did not think much of it.
The following day, Mon, As I was driving home I saw Omar playing baseball in the makeshift field at our local Elementary school. Omar`s mother is Cuban and does not speak a word of English. I went home and opened up the Yellow pages under Post Office, and jotted down a random number..I called Omar`s house knowing full well he was not home. His mom answered and the conversation went something like this...
ring...ring...ring..
Her-"Hoigo"
Me-(In the deepest, darkest voice I could muster)-Yes this is the United States Post Office calling, my I speak to Omar Herxxxxxx please?
Her-" No aqui"
Me-"Could you please give him my telephone # and ask him to call me immediately..er number..numero..telephono call please"
Her-"Un momento por favor'..( I hear her frantically shuffling for something to write with..
Her-"Ok, yes,numero por favor"
Me-I proceeded to give her the random # I had drawn from the Yellow Pages under Post Office..
Her " Ok, gracias"
Me"Have him call immediately please, thank you, bye"
Her-"bye"
.....I was on my porch an hour later when Omar arrived at his house on his bicycle along with 2 other punks..It was about 5:30 so most of the POs were closed. His mom was at the door and met them in the driveway . I could see she had a piece of paper she handed Omar and said something to him. I could not hear her(few houses away)..I could hear Omar`s initial reaction..it was like eeeaaaa..eeeaaa..whoopiee..whoppieee and he proceeded to slap his friends in the shoulders and jump up and down..I grinned to myself and went inside.
Well..the next day Omar called that #..It was the post office, but no one knew a damn thing..He spent the next hour or two calling every post office # in the phone book..but no one knew a thing..
He stayed home the next 3 days without going outside once..awaiting that impending call back from the post office..
I went over there on Friday of that week as they were all at the dinner table. I asked young Omar if he had had any luck finding a job. I swear he literally threw his dinner plate forward half a foot and looked at his mom and said.."they called me from the post office but my mom cant take a fucken message"..he got up and stormed out of the room..
His mom was left at the table..she looked up into the empty space in front of her and said.."Era una vos oscora" translation-It was a heavy dark mysteroius voice..
I said.."thats a shame" and left their house never telling the truth..
Young Omar has recently been employed by the US Postal service and has been there 3 months now
I dont regret doing this, am I an ass hole?-D
The following tale is 100% non-fiction...
The victim was a neighborhood kid named Omar Hexxxxxx..He was one of my daughter`s friends and hung out in my front yard along with other kids from our block. I guess the kids would come around seeking sanctuary as I`d like to believe I am one of the cooler parents..
Omar was a bit of a prankster and a wise ass himself, for the record..
One Sunday awhile back I overheard him talking to some kids about his application to the US Post office and how it would change his life and he was eagerly awaiting their reply. I did not think much of it.
The following day, Mon, As I was driving home I saw Omar playing baseball in the makeshift field at our local Elementary school. Omar`s mother is Cuban and does not speak a word of English. I went home and opened up the Yellow pages under Post Office, and jotted down a random number..I called Omar`s house knowing full well he was not home. His mom answered and the conversation went something like this...
ring...ring...ring..
Her-"Hoigo"
Me-(In the deepest, darkest voice I could muster)-Yes this is the United States Post Office calling, my I speak to Omar Herxxxxxx please?
Her-" No aqui"
Me-"Could you please give him my telephone # and ask him to call me immediately..er number..numero..telephono call please"
Her-"Un momento por favor'..( I hear her frantically shuffling for something to write with..
Her-"Ok, yes,numero por favor"
Me-I proceeded to give her the random # I had drawn from the Yellow Pages under Post Office..
Her " Ok, gracias"
Me"Have him call immediately please, thank you, bye"
Her-"bye"
.....I was on my porch an hour later when Omar arrived at his house on his bicycle along with 2 other punks..It was about 5:30 so most of the POs were closed. His mom was at the door and met them in the driveway . I could see she had a piece of paper she handed Omar and said something to him. I could not hear her(few houses away)..I could hear Omar`s initial reaction..it was like eeeaaaa..eeeaaa..whoopiee..whoppieee and he proceeded to slap his friends in the shoulders and jump up and down..I grinned to myself and went inside.
Well..the next day Omar called that #..It was the post office, but no one knew a damn thing..He spent the next hour or two calling every post office # in the phone book..but no one knew a thing..
He stayed home the next 3 days without going outside once..awaiting that impending call back from the post office..
I went over there on Friday of that week as they were all at the dinner table. I asked young Omar if he had had any luck finding a job. I swear he literally threw his dinner plate forward half a foot and looked at his mom and said.."they called me from the post office but my mom cant take a fucken message"..he got up and stormed out of the room..
His mom was left at the table..she looked up into the empty space in front of her and said.."Era una vos oscora" translation-It was a heavy dark mysteroius voice..
I said.."thats a shame" and left their house never telling the truth..
Young Omar has recently been employed by the US Postal service and has been there 3 months now
I dont regret doing this, am I an ass hole?-D
