I finally get the last word

Some people have to have the best story.

No matter what, they have always done something better than whatever it is you have accomplished.


You know the type. You could have built your own spacecraft, flown to Neptune, captured the Neptunian Warrior King Ghyyup (thus ending an imminent invasion of planet Earth), got back home, been knighted by the Queen of England and given some kind of medal for good citizenship by the President of the United States, shared a plate of nachos with the Pope, AND had a song by Pearl Jam named after you, but …

“I flew to Mars once when I jumped a tractor trailer on my Big Wheel. Yeah, I was seven or so. Maybe eight,” they start.

And it’s always with a nonchalant attitude because, HEY, they do that kind of stuff every day.

“I had to jump that tractor trailer because I was wearing a gasoline suit that day and my sister was chasing me with a box of matches. She’s fast, too. You know she won an Olympus medal for that. I think it was the Okinawan Olympus in 1981.

“Anyway, I hit this ramp I hand-welded out of the remnants of a Sherman Tank I had just dismantled and like 45 minutes later there I was on Mars facing a horde of surly Nazis. You know they built a base there at the end of World War II. Yep, colonized it and everything, took all those Nazi scientists and cabaret girls with them, too. You probably heard about that Martian base on some of those old newsreels.

“So, my Big Wheel lands and, I’ll be the first to admit I was a little confused as to my whereabouts because I’d never been to Mars before. You know, I landed on Mercury once. Overrated is all I can say about that experience.

“Honestly, I didn’t know what was happening until I saw all those Nazis and cabaret girls goose stepping their way toward me. I knew what that was. I saw that in a comic book once.

“And sure enough, I kinda peaked behind them and I saw a fleet of these super-fast Nazi space rockets — you probably read about them in Popular Mechanics — and I thought, ‘Well heck, I have to do something about this.’

“I mean, I was like five or something. I hadn’t earned my black belt in Hai Karate yet and I was just a little wary they might not be regular Nazis, but those Super Nazis I’d seen on that documentary about Super Nazis.

“All I had was my Big Wheel and the clothes on my back. But I’d been in similar situations before, you know.

“Like that time down in Costa Recon when I saved that rock and roll singer, Elvis. He let me stay in Graceland a couple days after that adventure. I sure liked those peanut butter and margarine sandwiches.

“So, I got this idea in my head and I thought it might just work. I think on the fly pretty quickly when the pressure is on.

“I stripped off that gasoline suit and took off on my Big Wheel, wiping that suit against all the super-fast rockets and sure enough, as soon as that first one started to take off it caught on fire and it was like a chain reaction and they all caught fire and just burned to the ground.

“I had just enough of that gasoline suit left — I think it was the right sleeve — and I tucked that on the back of my Big Wheel and WHOOSH, powered myself right back home.

“Yeah, I turned down that knight hood stuff and all that. I mean, I landed wearing nothing but my underwear — I was wearing a pair of Batman ‘Roos,’ just for the record. Anyway, the local paper came out to do a story on me and the President of the United States did call … But I was kinda busy eating some pancakes because I sure was hungry after all that fuss.

“Of course, I also lost 30 pounds saving planet Earth from the Martian Nazis. I wrote a book about it and made about 10 million dollars. I gave it all to the Sisters of Calico so they could help poverty stricken little kids.”

And then you get the “top that” look that says, “Yeah, I’m fibbing, but you can’t prove it!”

“I sat in a County Commission meeting last month that lasted almost four hours,” I said.

Then I gave him the “Oh yeah, top that!” look, which is even more wicked looking than the “top that” look.