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Soothing the savage beast
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I was preoccupied doing some kind of nonsense that typically takes up my evening when I heard all this commotion coming from the living room.

‘What on earth is going on out there?’ I wondered.

I muted the TV that was on close by and listened with both bad ears. Aside from the normal tinnitus that usually accompanies me throughout my day, I heard shouts and grumbles.

Hubs was talking to someone.


I hadn’t heard the doorbell ring ... well, the real doorbell that is. Tinnitus has some similar sounds, but I knew that I hadn’t heard the traditional “ding dong” that is our doorbell.

I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling and let my jaw hang open, cause sometimes that seems to help me hear better.

More of the ruckus.

What on earth? I knew he hadn’t been drinkin’ ’cause Hubs is teetotaler from the git-go.

I got up and gently walked down the hall in case there were some proselytizers at my door.

Y’all know what I mean, right? That might indicate a reason for Hubs to keep shouting the “s” word, which he seldom does unless his blood sugar is way low.

Not only does he not drink or smoke, he really doesn’t swear much, unless it’s concerning road rage or the situation he was finding himself in at the moment: watching one of his favorite teams duke it out on the basketball court.

Ohhhh ... right ... March Madness.

Tonight he was getting his shorts in a knot because he was trying to cheer on Weber State, but he said they were acting like high school kids and the coaching was slack.... Cincinnati was kicking butt.

Now that he has had it with the game, he is on a roll.

Whereas I had returned to my little task, he got on his soapbox and just started having a scene like George Costanza on “Seinfeld” when his office mates watched him “go bananas” in the hallway and dubbed him “Coco the monkey.”

That’s what Hubs was looking like.

Arms waving, head shaking ... he went from talking about the way the refs were making bad calls to Obama-care to the ridiculousness that happens when one squeaky wheel causes problems for lots of others, i.e., the gal in Detroit who caused a huge brouhaha by complaining about someone’s perfume and causing office workers to lose their right to wear colognes, lotions, scented deodorants and so forth.

He saw my eyes glaze over so he knew he was adding to the tinnitus.

The look on my face told him that I was now looking at him as if I were part of a Charlie Brown cartoon, listening to the teacher.

“Mwop. Mwop mwop mwop. Mwop Mwop?”

It’s amazing how couples find ways to tune each other out.

He sees that look on my face and gets further irritated because he knows I am not going to encourage his venting.

He starts “mwopping” down the hallway, and I roll my weary eyes again to the ceiling and let my jaw hang open, this time a little longer than before.

“Mwopmwopmwop. Ess word. Mwopmwopmwop.”

Sunnybuns peeks around the corner and lifts his hand in question.

He doesn’t often hear his Pops cursing so he knows something is up.

I look at him and say, “College hoops.”

He makes the “Ahh!” face and nods.

“Hey Buns,” I call out as he turns to leave. “Did you hear what he was cursing about going down the hall?”

“Nah,” he says. “Sounded something like ‘mwop mwop mwop’... whatever that means.”


Time to take out the MooseTracks ice cream.

Coco need ice cream.

Coco acting like bad monkey.

Better make sure I have extra on hand for tomorrow night’s game.

I might even throw some sliced banana on top.

Coco not like refs.

But Coco do like banana.