Before camcorders, Ipods, cell phones which double as spy cameras, there were tape recorders. That was what Stephen and I used to ad-lib various skits. Stephen was a master at at-lib. I thought of the right things to say, but often didn't have the courage to say them, even with Stephen. Too afraid of offending. Offending was never something Stephen worried about when making jokes. I guess in his mind people should be mature enough to understand that funny is funny, even when it is insulting. That is true, too. People who aren't afraid to be laughed at tend to be nicer people than people who will not tolerate it. But sometimes it can get over the top.
What was nice about a tape recorder was that since the listener had no idea what was going on, it was difficult, if not outright impossible, for them to predict what was going to happen next. So when Stephen and I did a skit about an incompetent barber, and the customer finally got the barber to stop and listen, the short pause of complete silence followed by the the sound of a hair clipper going again came off really well.
We got into doing fake play-by-play and sports commentary on Minnesota Vikings football games. Needless to say, Bud Grant and his team did not fare well under our imaginations. Stephen didn't on the day he decided to use innuendo in his humor. By chance, that was the day his mother came to listen to what we were doing that was causing all the commotion. I can still see her beating on him with her hands while he lay on his back and kicking up with his feet. Stephen's mother was not shy about being herself even when company was over.
Inevitably, our sports commentary took us to real games. Not professional real games. My brother belonged to his company's slow-pitch softball team. This was a highly competitive league, and the teams were considered "A" level.
Stephen and I showed up at a game with our (his) tape recorder in hand and dropped down behind the backstop where we could see the action.
Stephen was always "Charlie Bush". He found the name amusing for some reason. I was "Joe". Stephen would always talk fast when describing any action and make completely innane comments. He would fit right in with today's commentators.
Not all of the players appreciated our presence. Some gave us looks. But not all. But then Stephen didn't treat them all equally. God help the person who showed any kind of sensitivity to Stephen's remarks. That was just throwing fuel on the fire.
I remember my brother's best friend coming up to bat with the bases loaded and two outs. My brothers' team was down by a run at the time. This was Mike's chance to be a hero.
I did the "Now batting (pause) for Murhpy Trucking (pause) Mike (pause) (last name)". Some of the wives and offspring around us cheered. Then I went into a fake spiel about Mike as a player. Just as the pitch came Stephen announces in a loud voice, "You know, Joe, I couldn't find any baseball cards of this guy." Mike reacted just as he swung the bat. Pitiful ground ball to the pitcher. When he turned and looked at us we ended our presence before he did.
This is not funny to anyone else, I'm sure. But it was part of what Stephen and I did to amuse ourselves. Stephen gave me the confidence to do the things I knew I could do. I'm not sure what I gave him. But we were friends, and will be again one day. And, considering my age, I'm thinking it won't be all that long.
2 comments:
Murphy Trucking? Is that the same as Murphy Motor Freight? I worked at the Fergus Falls freight terminal for 12 years.
It sounds like you and Steven both had harsh mothers. Maybe you found comfort in avoiding them in all your antics.
She was more loud than harsh. Stephen's family communicated by shouting. If they weren't shouting at one another it meant they weren't speaking to one another. But they loved each other dearly.
Yes, that would be the same Murphy company. Long since gone out of business.
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