If you listen closely, you’ll find them everywhere. Wild Dumbknuckles are mingling about forwarding ideas that wouldn’t make sense even if the world was run by Dr. Seuss. You hear their ideas and you groan. Their opinions make you lose faith in the human race. It’s enough to make you wonder how they get dressed and find their way to work.
Please be advised…none of the following Dumbknuckle Exhibits are made up. Each is true.
Dumbknuckle Exhibit #1 – In an effort to dumb (I mean drum) up attendance at one of Murfreesboro’s indoor pools, the assistant aquatics coordinator had an idea for a “Goldfish Rush.”
The event was to release about two hundred small goldfish into the pool and let a mob of children jump in to catch them. This could only play out two ways: in the first stage no one would catch a gold fish because it is impossible for children to catch fish with their hands. The second stage begins once the chlorine and other chemicals kill the fish, filling your net would be no problem.
Any volunteers for cleaning the filters?
Dumbknuckle Exhibit #2 – I’m sitting across the table from another lifeguard. She’s in college and is an active member of her sorority. She has a problem so she came to me for advice.
“Mr. T, what should I do? I’m trying to limit the number of calories that I ingest but I also want to drink tonight. I’m hungry too. Should I go to my dorm and make supper or should I just save my calories for drinking tonight? I really can’t do both.”
I look up from my computer. “You’re asking me if you should skip the nutritious meal because you need the spare calories for alcohol?” My face twisted a bit. “Hmmm, while I’m thinking about it…did you know that yours is supposed to be the first generation that will fail to outlive the previous generation. Anyway, it ultimately doesn’t matter what I say. You’re drinking tonight aren’t you?”
She flashes a big grin and slowly nods.
Dumbknuckle Exhibit #3- I’m sitting in the guard room immediately after the pool closes. Guards are getting their things together and talking about the coming summer. Andre has family in Russia and is talking to me about going back to visit them soon.
Anne pipes in, “Andre, are you really going back to Russia? Could I ask you to grab something for me?”
“Sure, I suppose but I don’t really have a lot of room. It would have to be very small.”
“Oh, it’s small.” She flashes a smile. “I need you to bring me back some dirt. About a Ziploc bag full will be fine. It’s for my collection.”
I could smell Dumbknuckle in the air. “Your collection? Anne, what are you talking about?”
“Well, I collect dirt from everywhere I go. I’ve got a baby jar full of dirt from about thirty-nine states and three countries. If I could get some dirt from Russia, that would be really cool.”
Stunned silence holds sway while Andre and I struggle to comprehend. I’m imagining a shelf loaded with small jars of brown and black soil all marked with masking tape. Immediately below, Anne is bent over a “Dusty’s Guide to Soil Values – September ’09.” She’s ing over rare Bohemian mud.
Finally, I chime in, “Yea, and you know where the best dirt in Russia is don’t you?”
Anne and Andre ask the same question at the same time the only difference – confusion on Andre’s face and excitement on Anne’s. “Where’s the best dirt in Russia?”
“Well, everyone knows the best dirt in Russia is at Chernobyl.”