I know it’s somewhat difficult to make this out in the pictures you’ve seen, but I happen to be a colossal pussy. I talk a pretty slick game, and if one’s toughness were measured by the number of times he can write variations of the word “motherfucker” in a span of four or five paragraphs, I’d be Mohammed Motherfucking Ali. But when push comes to shove, circumstantial evidence leads me to believe that little Dakota Fanning would probably kick my ass 10 times out of 10.

That I know this about myself is at once liberating (because I know not to go near Dakota Fanning) and terrifying (because you never know where that sneaky little bitch is going to turn up). It also makes experiences like we had last night especially chilling.

We took the kids out for pizza at a restaurant with a large gameroom. There are video games and pinball machines and a big air hockey table. Because it was a Wednesday night – a night when normal, loving families are at home, eating a home-cooked meal and speaking to one another about how their day went and possibly playing Hungry, Hungry Hippo together after supper – we had the gameroom almost to ourselves.

Almost.

The only other customers in the joint were two cute, toe-headed kids and their father: a big, burly animal of a man with angry tattoos on his arms and coarse, pokey facial scruff and a hardened look in his eyes that said: “Don’t eyeball me, you squishy little fuck, because I can kill you without even putting down my beer.”

Hot Wife and I stayed far, far away from the big, ugly guy (I believe Hot Wife also knows that I have a spine made of marshmallow cream). We ate our pizza and averted our gaze from him and didn’t even acknowledge the fact that the minister of death was eating a calzone a scant few feet away.

Suddenly, there was a ruckus. The game room erupted in a tug-of-war of arguing children’s voices.

“It’s mine!”

“No, it’s mine!”

“Stop iiiiittttt! I had it first!”

“Gimme it BACK!”

I walked over to mediate. My son and the minister of death’s son were squabbling over a small bouncy ball dispensed by one of the games. Each boy had two hands on the ball and was alternately yanking on it, trying to wrest it free from the other.

“Guys! Guys! Chill for a sec!” I said. “Let’s talk this out. What happened?”

My son, Mr. Innocent, spoke first. “I was playing this game and I won a bouncy ball and he’s trying to take it from me.”

“Nuh-UH!” the other boy blurted. “It’s MY ball. He stoled it.”

“Oh…shut your piehole!” my son said.

I was just about to admonish my son for using a term we had both agreed he wouldn’t (although I must congratulate him on perfect application of it) when a great booming voice spoke behind me. It said “WHAT’S GOING ON IN HERE?”

I turned around, and it was him.

And then I screamed. I screamed a scream that would make the victim in a b-level slasher film jealous. I screamed a scream that would have made Dakota Fanning stop pummeling me so she could plug her ears with her bitter, bitchy little index fingers.

When I was done screaming, I grabbed my kids, tucked one under each arm and told Hot Wife the following: “RUN, HONEY! RUN LIKE YOU STOLE SOMETHING! RUN LIKE YOUR TEETH ARE ON FIRE AND THE ONLY WAY TO PUT IT OUT IS TO RUN AND RUN AND RUN SOME MORE.”

(Along the 5 Freeway in San Diego, there are signs that warn drivers to be alert for illegal immigrants running across the road to escape the border patrol. The image on that sign is a silhouette of a family actually sprinting against a bright gold background, the parents dragging the kid along, believing perhaps that even if they pull the child’s arm out of its socket, it’s better than drinking even one more drop of that shitty Tijuana tap water. That’s what the Evans family looked like as the four of us bolted from that pizza parlor.)

Comments

This story is too cute...but who got to keep the bouncy ball?

I used to get in fights all the time. Of course that was in elementary and junior high school. So I often wonder how I would react as an adult in a fight. Would I stand tall and whomp some ass thus becoming fully one with the Tyler Durden-esque vision I have of myself? Or would I just cower and cry?

I'm not sure I want to find out.

When we were kids, we were prohibido from playing with toe-heads or immigrants.

Oh DGM, that was fricken hysterical and I had to cover my mouth so I wouldn't laugh out loud considering I'm at work.

I just pictured the dude in Home Alone with the spider and screaming like a girl and I just lost it.

Good for you. You never resort to violence but run screaming like a girl. And wow, your wife loves you even though you're spineless. She's fabulous.

Yet, I feel like your kid was probably telling the truth and that the Muscles Jr. was full of shit. Just a guess.

P.S. Whats a toe head?

Oh, my fucking god!! You have to stop writing shit like this! I'm also at work and, like teri, had to cover my mouth with my hand to prevent the laughs from escaping. Of course, all it did was make me sound like some sort of asthmatic cube-dwelling weasel-creature. But, whatever. If my co-workers call 911 on me, it will have been worth it.

Saxy: tow-head = blond

toe-head = one whose head is shaped like a toe

Hotwife deserves a MEDAL.
Too bad Wondersis didn't have your back. She would have totally kicked ass.

Yeah, I hope that Champ got the ball.

Dakota Fanning...lol!!!

When I was a kid we had a sign by the road that said "Slow Children Playing"

I'm pretty sure they meant the neighbor kid. Or my sister.

Next time call me in for backup, I'll be the one at home playing Hungry Hungry Hippo with Dakota Fanning.

Too funny. I'm the exact opposite. I'm all sweet and gentle until somebody else's kid starts messing with mine and then I have to go all Dakota Fanning on their ass.

Toe-head = One whose head looks like a camel toe?

I cannot believe that is an actual sign. I am actually shocked we don't have those here in Houston. All we have are those "SLOW CHILDREN AT PLAY" signs.

I hope your kid got to keep the bouncy ball!

I think around fight 9 or 10, Fanning would tire and you would be able to take her with a swift kick to the throat.

DGM

that was just to funny........me is killin meself laufin here.........spine like marshmellow cream an a colossal pussy huh????????? an yer wife luv ya anyway..........quess there hope for wimps everywhere........ROFLMFFAO.....yer too too funny..........glad me not at work like the others......me just laufed me fool face off without a care who heard me.......

When my family and I saw that sign, we never even thought about illegal immigrants!! We thought it was an awkward sign that did not support people crossing the road.

tow head = white kids

what is Prohibido........them running or you hitting them?

Yeah, I don't even bother to hide my out-right laughter from my coworkers or boss. I actually forward the link so maybe they'll give me a stipen to help buy a shirt. You are one funny dude! (said with much envy - not so envious of your ill-fated bout with D.F. but that giving us all something to pee in our panties about at work is a skill.) Keep 'em coming DGM.

but shouldn't that little girl image be clutching a bola bouncy?

Did you learn nothing from Road House? The biggest guy in the world will go down if you kick him in the knee. Even if you're a scrawny little pussy like Patrick Swayze.

Hahahahahaha -- Thank you for being a bright spot in my day, Dad Gone Mad!

Forget Roadhouse, didn't you learn anything from RUNDOWN. "Hey, remember your friend, Mr. Thunder? How 'bout his buddy, Mr. Lightning? Ooh, I know you know him. You know him real well, don't ya?"
That's totally DGM!

Well played DGM since y'all LAA fellows don't fare to well when playing bean ball or charging the mound.

I have, unfortunately, generated an image in my head of what a real colossal pussy would look like and it ain't pretty. If you looked like what I'm imagining, you would have had no worries because the minister of death would be crying like a baby and running as fast as his huge, scary legs could take him. That's scarier than any tattoo.

I cannot believe that is a real sign. I am dying here. I can't stop looking at it and laughing at the way the mother is dragging the child behind. Why is this so comical to me?

You are so damn funny that I have had to stop reading your blog while I am at work.

Oh man! I was expecting to read all about the confrontation you had with the Minister of Death! You big wussy.

I'm laughing, but it's because I'm normally the dude who you screamed at. No one has ever actually screamed at me, but people have left because I rolled in on my motorcycle, leather clad and heavy tattooed long haired and visible piercings.....

and I would have assumed my snot nosed imp was stealing your kids ball, and would have probably talked to you for a while... I'm cool like that (but I can still kill you without putting down my beer)

Dude - You had nothing to worry about. Hitting you would have been like hitting a 12-year-old girl. Give me some credit; you weigh as much as my left bicep. And tell the wife I could tell she thought I was more studly than you could ever be.

P.S. Glad to see your son hasn't inherited your pussy instincts.

Congrats DGM, you have won my vote for funniest shit ever written. That's it, I'm buying a t-shirt. But I may have to go beat up some kid for his milk money first.

Damn you and your funny stories!! I actually woke up the boy.imp from his nap I was laughing so loud!!

kinda suspected you were a pussy, but thanks for coming out into the open with it. If more people would confess there would be less stigma attached. And that Dakota Fanning is one mean bitch.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA! And....HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!!

I think I just peed a little.

You know, if you yell "Dakota Fanning" three times she'll magically break through a nearby wall and kick everybody's asses in the room because you've interrupted her sleep.

Oh my God!! I think I just cracked a rib! My first chuckle was when you wrote toe-headed instead of tow-headed. I pictured a kid with toes growing on his head. But the real fun came as I read on. That was a great story. I bet Hot Wife thinks the sexiest thing about you is your sense of humor.

You did not do that really!!!???

Good god, the arm coming out of the socket is awesome.

Next time, send in Hot Wife. If she's anything like this hot wife, she would have taken the ball for herself, and made the big scary dude run away screaming.

OH. MY. GOD. That was the funniest thing I've ever read at 8 a.m. on a Monday. Seriously, though. Thanks for making me spit out my coffee.

And I can't believe they make signs like that! How very sad!