So I thought I’d drop in on Old Roybert as I was driving through his neck of Pennsylvania on Tuesday – you know, see if he’s as cantankerous in person as he is online. I thought y’all would appreciate what I found out while there…
I pulled up to a neat little house with vinyl siding a bit after 6pm with a cold six pack. After giving up trying to find the front door and a doorbell, I eventually found a way in through the basement and worked my way upstairs where I met Roy’s wonderful wife. Best part of the visit right there! No idea how she puts up with him, I think she has hidden super powers that keep him check.
First, I was taken back a bit. You see, not only is there no front door to the house to find, but the inside of Roy’s house doesn’t match the outside. If you flip through some pictures he’s posted, you’ll see what I mean. The outside could fit into a suburban neighborhood while the inside is straight out of hunting lodge – complete with the old dog.
In exchange for the fresh, cold beers I brought, Roy shoved a plate full of rotten cabbage into my hands and told me to eat. I should have known he was trying to hurt me then and there – nothing like beer and cabbage to make for a long night!
Once satisfied I had consumed enough to start the irreversible chemical reaction, he suggested we walk down the pond. The walk down the hill is more treacherous than would imagine that old coot of being capable of handling. I kept having this weird feeling that I was going to get tripped from behind at any moment, even with Roybert in front of me.
At the pond he grinned like a Cheshire cat as he showed me how he could make just about anything disappear with his swarming school of ravenous fish that he stirred into a feeding frenzy for my benefit. I had no idea you could keep piranhas in Pennsylvania, but there you have it. And that was nothing compared to the scene out of Hitchcock's “The Birds” that came next. I was happy to get the hell out of there when he suggested we take cover in the bow shop.
In the shop I just about broke my neck trying to balance on the rickety old stool he pushed at me still smiling. He gave me some airborne samples of the dust that some people who visit his shop apparently find themselves highly allergic to while pulling old sticks off the wall to show me. The sneezing in that shop still haunts me days later. When he stepped out of the shop to go get a bow to show me, I tried switching stools with him. But the old fart was one step ahead of me there too – the second stool was just as deadly! How he could balance on that after drinking all those Coors Lights, I have no idea.
When he came back, he showed me a recent bow that he had made that didn’t make the cut. Something about how it could break at any moment. He had a devilish smirk on his face as he said I should take it with me so he wouldn’t have to look at it anymore. I explained that I already had enough firewood at my house, but that just made him angry. He threatened to cut the sucker in half right there and beat me with the pieces if I didn’t humor him. Imagine a more agitated version of Yosemite Sam and you'll understand what I was dealing with.
The hour was getting late anyhow, so I decided to just take the bow and try to make my exit. I told Roy I would pass it along to a deserving soul who needed such a bow and he lightened up a bit. What I didn’t realize was that he was anticipating the humor of a stranger trying to back up and around his driveway in the dark without needing a tow truck. I eventually got out, but not before the old gnome was rolling on the ground laughing at my troubles.
When my meetings ended the next day and I started the five hour drive home it hit me: the time bomb he put in my digestive tract. Turns out your mileage drops if you drive the whole way with your windows wide open.
Well Wednesday night I was home from my travels and started putting my stuff away. My youngest daughter came down and asked what the stick in my car was. When I explained it was a bow, she thought I was kidding. So I strung it up to show her. She eventually got past the bright yellow decoration on it, but she still thought I was pulling her leg. So we went down to the target butt to shoot a few shots with it and prove it to her. (Besides, I had to figure out what level of friend I was going to give this too.) I had the good sense after my revelations about Roybert to have her stand way back and we both wore safety glasses. But the old skunk still had one more laugh at my expense. You see, when I dropped the string on that first arrow, my left radius and ulna both buckled and three of my teeth were knocked clean out of my mouth by the hand shock. I'm still seeing spots and feeling a bit of nausea.
The bow is still lying where the EMTs left it. Heck, it's still in one piece which makes it the winner in our little duel. Luckily the fire pit is only a few feet away. It’s taken me since then type to this warning to y’all with only my right hand. Beware those who have made Roy’s thumpin’ list! He may look small and harmless, but he will surely have the last laugh!
Topic: Old Roybert (Read 862 times)
