Restricting Brian’s Access to my Home Land

“Buenas Diazes,” dear readers. For the uninitiated, that’s Mexican-speak for “good morning”. And that it is. I’m sitting here drinking my coffee listening to the patter of little footsteps as Derek marches up and down my front walk. He’s doing a splendid job guarding my property in his position as the Secretary of my Home Land’s Security. As a matter of fact, I heard him yelling at some trespassing hooligans just this very morning.

One person that I’m going to tell him to be on the lookout for is my son Brian. His access to my property has now been restricted. You see, last night he decided to drop in uninvited. Doesn’t he realize that it gets dark now by 5:00? Once it gets dark, that makes it socially unacceptable for visiting, just like it did in the old days. Then we had words. Our conversation, as I remember it, went like this:

Brian: You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m going to take you to see that doctor again so he can have you committed. (in not so many words, of course)

The Codger: You and your counter-cultural values! You don’t have any respect for my generation, which is greater than yours.

Brian: Have you been taking your medicine? You have to take more medicine.

The Codger: What are you, some kind of pill-pusher? Get off my property. Derek, please escort Brian off my property.

Brian: I’ll be back.

Until next time!


The Codger


3 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Charlie on November 16, 2010 at 12:33 pm

    Hail fellow. I hope you’ve supplied Derek with armaments, it sounds like he will need them.

    Also, I know of a writer offering a collection of old coins by way of a contest. I bet he has no idea how valuable they are, whether $5.00, $350.00, or $500.00. I could inform him of his blunder by sending him a hyperlink to your post, but I think I might just let the contest transpire, and let him learn from his mistake.

    God bless,


    • A fine evening to you, Mr. Charlie. In fact, I have fortified Derek with both a flashlight and a can of pepper spray. He’s been earning every penny I’ve been paying him. Speaking of money, that writer friend of yours must be too young to remember the war effort last time. As Rosie the Riveter used the remind us, the more money we convert to bullets, the better off we’ll all be.

      Best regards,
      The Codger


  2. That was indeed a great write-up. I like reading it as it was like a bonding of father and son. Thanks for sharing.


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