The Further Adventures of COIN, JUICE and J.J.: THE DAY COIN PUNKED GRUMPY

The Further Adventures of COIN, JUICE and J.J.:  HOW COIN PUNKED GRUMPY

Juice, J.J. and Coin are the Three Stooges in Grumpy’s Life!

If you wander back a few days you will remember when I introduced my three amigos, Coin, Juice and J.J. I was telling you a little about teenage speak and the use of acronyms in texting. LOL

I call them the Three Stooges in a stream of consciousness attempt to NOT offend them. They can drive me bonkers. Honestly, they are the reason I drink massive amounts of beer.

Take for example, Coin.

Coin tagged along with me when I had to take J.J., the Phenom, to his baseball practice. We dropped J.J at the field because I had to go to the bank machine up the road. Raising teenagers is costly, my friends. Cash in the wallet must be replenished at regular and consistent intervals.

“Hey, dad, have you got five bones?” (That’s five bucks in teenage-speak -“dollars” if you’re over 80.)

Anyway, I left the radio on for Coin as I ambled up to the banking machine thinking life is good and all is as it should be.

When I entered the bank door I could hear loud music emanating from my little compact car at a decibel level more suitable for an arena concert. No matter, I know that kids today are practically deaf from those headphones they constantly wear. (Especially those $400 Beats specials they buy.)

When I returned to the vehicle, cash in hand, I pulled on the driver’s side handle and the door was locked. The sound of the music was still of ear splitting proportions. The bass was “boom-dada-boom-dada-BOOM!” This type of bass causes the car to shake as if we were experiencing a major earth tremor.

I nod my head at Coin and point to the lock button. He smiles shaking his head, “No!”

I smile and chuckle at his little joke and point again, nodding my head, “Yes!”

He ignores me, shakes his head “NO” and starts a laugh that quickly turns into galloping guffaws.

At this point my blood pressure begins to spike. I escalate to lightly pounding on the glass and resort to louder pleas of, “Coin, open the GD door, you moron!”

At that point Coin starts screaming, “HHHEEEELLLLPPPP MEEEEEE!” and reaches over to lay a hand on the horn. So, now we have loud music with pounding bass, a car horn blaring and a teenage boy screaming blue murder. We also have an agitated 62 year old Grumpy, dressed like a vagabond, pounding on the glass screaming, “Open the FN door!”

I think you get the visual. What might people think? All I know is that everyone in the vicinity was taking giant steps backward and turning their heads away.

Did I mention that J.J.’s ball team plays out of a popular beach town, this is Sunday afternoon and there are people everywhere; walking on the street, crawling forward in bumper–to-bumper traffic and going into the bank to use that damn bank machine?

I’m just about to put my fist through the window when Coin presses the lock release button. I’m about ready to throttle him when I remember the VISUAL and that there are scores of people around. I’m not quite sure whether this would go down as premeditated murder or justifiable homicide. I’m not taking any chances that these witnesses are in my court.

When I slide into my seat Coin is laughing like a maniac saying, “Slice, you looked so funny with your face all red and your arms waving. I thought you were going to blow a gasket!” (BTW –Slice is the name they gave me. Full name D.K. Slice -another story with that one.)

I started laughing, too. I actually laughed to the point of shedding happy-tears. You see, this isn’t the first time the boys have set me up to be the goat.

Grumpy isn’t the only one who keeps finding himself locked out.

I’m so used to these “Punks” by the boys that I should have been more proactive. Watching my own back is a priority when I’m with the Three Stooges, you see. Ashton Krushner is my witness.

For example, every time I take the boys through a restaurant drive through I’ve got to keep my eye on the one riding “shotgun” with me in the front. Every time I open my mouth to order one of Curly, Larry or Moe turns on the radio and jacks up the volume to full force. I reach over to turn it down, open my mouth to speak and up go the volume again. This keeps up until that gasket is blown and Grumpy shouts, “Keep your GD hands off the FN radio!”

I’m sure the server on the other end of the speaker is thinking, “Should I call 911! This sounds like a crazy-ass carload of nut bars.”

Their other little trick is for one of them to call out random items as I’m trying to keep the items I’m ordering at the drive-through straight. They take advantage of an old guy’s short-term memory which, as you know, is really short. Inevitably they’ll make fun of Grumpy’s attempt to make the order and say, “Why are you mumbling again, Slice?” or “What’s a wubble-wubble?”

And, you wonder why Grumpy is Grumpy?

Anyway, this summer we took the boys to my brother-in-law and sister-in-laws cottage. They had the opportunity to test their mettle with feats of daring-do. I present here the YouTube video of their adventures just to demonstrate that what they do “ain’t all bad!”


Really, the three of them, while keeping me on my toes, at the same time provide me with just as many barrels of laughs. Hey, I’ve got the empty beer bottles in the basement to prove it.





Leave a Reply and GRUMPY will write you back.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s