Blooper Against the World
One night on vacation I was taking a snooze as the cable news droned on. Ms. Marfar nudged me. “Hey Tommy, see that guy on T.V.? He’s from the County. His aunt is in the quilt guild with me.”
“Yeah, Yeah, what’s his name, hon….” I glanced at the screen. “Wait a minute. Dangnation, THAT’S BLOOPER!”
“Blooper? Who’s Blooper? His name is Jim.”
I jumped up and ran across the room to take a closer look. It might be forty five years down the road, but the face was unmistakable. It was Blooper. “Honey, you ain’t gonna believe this, but that is 100% for a fact Blooper.”
As it turned out, Blooper is now a high ranking government official in the thick of chasing down some very bad people. I ain’t even gonna tell you what part of the world he is in for fear of compromising his safety. Nowadays he is big and tough, and wore a bunch of medals on his chest. Not the kind of human being a mild mannered doctor want to get in a scrap with, I assure you.
Marfar looked up from her knitting, and peered at me over her glasses. “Blooper? Dear, I’m afraid you have to translate.”
“Oh, when we were kids we all played sandlot ball down at old Washington School. Bloop was four or five years younger than the rest of us, and was a bit pudgy back then. One day he let a ball get between his legs and Larry nicknamed him Blooper. He was quiet and never complained, but I am sure the kid tolerated terminal harassment.”
I watched the interview with great fascination. Blooper was now no kid, but a very serious man whose daily routine involved missions to disrupt terrorist activity. The newsman was timid, and seemed scared of him. Heck, he looked bad to the bone- I would be too. Blooper had done good.
I’m gonna tell you, I’ll bet the terrorists are scared of him too. Any cat who grew up as Blooper and seethed about it near a half century is not to be taken lightly.
Marfar watched a bit longer, and said, “Honey, he seems like a nice man. Y’all shouldn’t have called him Blooper.”
I thought about that for a minute. “Tell you what, hon. When you run into his aunt at the quilt guild, you make sure she knows it wasn’t my idea to call him Blooper. I called him Jim.”
Bloop looks like the kind of fellow you want to keep on your good side. Somehow, I have a notion he hasn’t forgotten much. I sure hope I didn’t call him that; I can’t remember. One better be real careful how they treat people, time has a way of settling up old scores.
Enough on vacation. I’m gonna visit Indie at the Nursing Home this weekend, and I’ll report back to you.