Averageman
07-18-15, 19:51
I have been having issues with my gas grill, but really it's to be expected, it was a Brinkman and it lasted six years. After working on it a bit and wondering where all of the wasps were coming from I gave up and wheeled it to the curb.
I made my way down to the Super HEB Grocery Store and picked out a grill, two big old Ribeye Steaks, a pound and a half of shrimp and the making for my killer guacamole. Oh, and I almost forgot a New Gas Grill.
Now I'm in a bit of a hurry because I have a young vixen coming over to share all of this soon to be grilled bounty with me.
At this point I've got an hour and a half to make it three blocks to the house and get my new grill up on the deck. Not a problem, right?
Well not so much.
I ask for some help loading my new grill in to my pick up and nobody seems to want to give me some assistance. When I finally get someone to help, it's the two skinniest guys who work in the store and they have some issues working together and using some common sense. So when the kid on one side of the grill decides to sit on the tailgate and load the grill over his body apparently, I have to ask WTF are you doing?? The resulting panic that ensued resulted in something akin to the old silent Laurel and Hardy movie where they moved the piano up the giant steps.
The end result was my new grill was laying in the parking lot, in traffic mind you, in about 1000 pieces.
I've evolved quite a bit since I retired from the military, my previous immediate reaction under such conditions was to usually grab two knuckle heads by the back of the neck and apply coconut crushing pressure before applying two foreheads together at mach 2 speeds. As I said though, I have evolved, I don't do those things anymore.
I got the manager, explained my predicament and asked for his assistance. At about this time the young beauty whom I had a date with called and explained She had got off work early and was ready to come over. My mind on her, the grill, the time and the Manager, I made a deal with him for another grill. Not the Grill I had wanted mind you, but one that did cost a bit more.
They were apologetic, I was not happy but somewhat satisfied with the deal and the manager and I loaded the grill. Tie the grill in to the bad of the truck and I'm off. Nothing on my mind but carnal thoughts of the young Lady and the dream of a cold Model Especial when I get home.
Now I'm ready to rock and roll my friends. I run the groceries in go back out to the truck and bear hug that Brand New Gas Grill off of the tail gate and carry it to it's new home on my deck. Did I mention the wasps?
I get the grill up on my deck, all the while praying that my back doesn't go "Pop" before I get it in position and that young beauty arrives. Wasps, about fifteen wasps are on my smoker, where in the wide, wide world of sports are all of these things coming from?
I set the grill down and begin to hook up the gas tank and more wasps. Even as I am putting the tank in under the grill I have these things landing on me and taking up residence in the new grill. I retreat, being of a military mind I find a weapon and go on a reconnaissance.
Armed with a giant can of wasp spray I begin to search the area, of course the cell phone rings and rings and rings.
I find the nest and due to the recent amount of rain we have gotten I have found a giant and I mean football sized wasp nest directly under my grill. I cautiously move in to position, I plan my hasty exit from my ambush position and I aim.
Okay at this point I might want to remind you to keep the can well shaken and level otherwise you will, like me emit a gentle "spritz" when you seek to apply the hose of violent death on these nasty creatures. I emit a Viking like war cry and fight these little red devils with what is equal to a squirt gun spray.
Of course their counter assault was violent and effective.
I'm now suffering no fewer than four stings as I keep my Viking War Cry at a decidable level usually reserved for Naval War Cannons, all while shaking that damned Wasp Spray can and running at speeds that only Jesse Owens could appreciate.
On my second lap around the back yard my plan comes together, hitting a hasty prone position I apply the full force of an entire half a can of wasp spray on to the football sized nest. Thirty or forty of those nasty alien like creatures are falling and dying under the wrath of my chemical attack.
I jump up and run under a wave of surviving red wasps who have not only attacked me, but are now pursuing my faithful hound Daisy. We head victorious for the back door and make it just in time.
Celebratory Beers were had by the victors of this monumental battle, we have survived, wounded, but yet victorious.
In my victory I regretfully ignore my cell phone and lavish in the golden brew that soothes my battle wounds.
Again in to the breech.
I answer the phone confidant in my victory and assure the young Lady that dinner though delayed is not forgotten. Armed anew with a confidence seldom known to mortal man I go out to inspect my new grill.
As I begin to prepare to attach the fuel tank to my new grill I am greeted by the angry survivors, they have taken a hasty residence in the bowels of my new grill and as I screw the fitting of the grill to the tank, they attack and begin to take a rather angry residence in my beard.
Note to the Unknowing, Wasps will continue to sting several times more than your average Bee.
As I set here with a swollen face and empty can of Wasp Spray and the probability that this young Lady will no longer want to share my bed, my only comfort is that there is one more can of Wasp Spray and many more beers.
I made my way down to the Super HEB Grocery Store and picked out a grill, two big old Ribeye Steaks, a pound and a half of shrimp and the making for my killer guacamole. Oh, and I almost forgot a New Gas Grill.
Now I'm in a bit of a hurry because I have a young vixen coming over to share all of this soon to be grilled bounty with me.
At this point I've got an hour and a half to make it three blocks to the house and get my new grill up on the deck. Not a problem, right?
Well not so much.
I ask for some help loading my new grill in to my pick up and nobody seems to want to give me some assistance. When I finally get someone to help, it's the two skinniest guys who work in the store and they have some issues working together and using some common sense. So when the kid on one side of the grill decides to sit on the tailgate and load the grill over his body apparently, I have to ask WTF are you doing?? The resulting panic that ensued resulted in something akin to the old silent Laurel and Hardy movie where they moved the piano up the giant steps.
The end result was my new grill was laying in the parking lot, in traffic mind you, in about 1000 pieces.
I've evolved quite a bit since I retired from the military, my previous immediate reaction under such conditions was to usually grab two knuckle heads by the back of the neck and apply coconut crushing pressure before applying two foreheads together at mach 2 speeds. As I said though, I have evolved, I don't do those things anymore.
I got the manager, explained my predicament and asked for his assistance. At about this time the young beauty whom I had a date with called and explained She had got off work early and was ready to come over. My mind on her, the grill, the time and the Manager, I made a deal with him for another grill. Not the Grill I had wanted mind you, but one that did cost a bit more.
They were apologetic, I was not happy but somewhat satisfied with the deal and the manager and I loaded the grill. Tie the grill in to the bad of the truck and I'm off. Nothing on my mind but carnal thoughts of the young Lady and the dream of a cold Model Especial when I get home.
Now I'm ready to rock and roll my friends. I run the groceries in go back out to the truck and bear hug that Brand New Gas Grill off of the tail gate and carry it to it's new home on my deck. Did I mention the wasps?
I get the grill up on my deck, all the while praying that my back doesn't go "Pop" before I get it in position and that young beauty arrives. Wasps, about fifteen wasps are on my smoker, where in the wide, wide world of sports are all of these things coming from?
I set the grill down and begin to hook up the gas tank and more wasps. Even as I am putting the tank in under the grill I have these things landing on me and taking up residence in the new grill. I retreat, being of a military mind I find a weapon and go on a reconnaissance.
Armed with a giant can of wasp spray I begin to search the area, of course the cell phone rings and rings and rings.
I find the nest and due to the recent amount of rain we have gotten I have found a giant and I mean football sized wasp nest directly under my grill. I cautiously move in to position, I plan my hasty exit from my ambush position and I aim.
Okay at this point I might want to remind you to keep the can well shaken and level otherwise you will, like me emit a gentle "spritz" when you seek to apply the hose of violent death on these nasty creatures. I emit a Viking like war cry and fight these little red devils with what is equal to a squirt gun spray.
Of course their counter assault was violent and effective.
I'm now suffering no fewer than four stings as I keep my Viking War Cry at a decidable level usually reserved for Naval War Cannons, all while shaking that damned Wasp Spray can and running at speeds that only Jesse Owens could appreciate.
On my second lap around the back yard my plan comes together, hitting a hasty prone position I apply the full force of an entire half a can of wasp spray on to the football sized nest. Thirty or forty of those nasty alien like creatures are falling and dying under the wrath of my chemical attack.
I jump up and run under a wave of surviving red wasps who have not only attacked me, but are now pursuing my faithful hound Daisy. We head victorious for the back door and make it just in time.
Celebratory Beers were had by the victors of this monumental battle, we have survived, wounded, but yet victorious.
In my victory I regretfully ignore my cell phone and lavish in the golden brew that soothes my battle wounds.
Again in to the breech.
I answer the phone confidant in my victory and assure the young Lady that dinner though delayed is not forgotten. Armed anew with a confidence seldom known to mortal man I go out to inspect my new grill.
As I begin to prepare to attach the fuel tank to my new grill I am greeted by the angry survivors, they have taken a hasty residence in the bowels of my new grill and as I screw the fitting of the grill to the tank, they attack and begin to take a rather angry residence in my beard.
Note to the Unknowing, Wasps will continue to sting several times more than your average Bee.
As I set here with a swollen face and empty can of Wasp Spray and the probability that this young Lady will no longer want to share my bed, my only comfort is that there is one more can of Wasp Spray and many more beers.