GHENGIS KHAN’S Grandma
I have a great neighbor, Petr. He’s a Czech. Schvinyak, as I call him is 60, has a full head of whitish, thick wild hair. He wears shorts all year. Leaves his windows and doors open. And is a tinkerer. Tinkerer is a kind assessment. Level two hoarder is more accurate. But to his many credits Ole Schvinvak can fix anything. I threw away a microwave once upon a time, before I had placed it on my garbage can he said, “Paulski, I can tell you what is wrong with that and I can fix it.”
“B.S.” I replied.
In four hours he had fixed the microwave. He is a tinkerer genius. He fixes my plumbing, electrical wiring, car, motorcycle, internet, all. He fixes all.
I’ve had Polish friends over the years and they taught me a few Polish words. Since Czech and Polish are of the Slavic language branch some words are interchangeable or at least cousins. So, I call him Schvinyak, which is a cute Polish derogatory abuse of the feminized word for pig. Petr likes it. So Schvinyak it is.
I spend many days and evenings at Petrs. We complain about our wives, children, co-workers and ease it all with in Petr’s words “an attitude adjuster.” Petr makes the best attitude adjuster around – a killer non-comparable gin and tonic.
Here’s how one makes an Attitude Adjuster –an ounce of Gin, ice water,glass nearly to rim with Schweppes Lemon Tonic water, add a twisted sprig of mint leaf. One’s a killer, more than three makes Scvinyak’s mother-in -law look good. And that is problematic.
So we sit and Schvinyak starts. He’s highly animated, usually mad at something, swears like a trooper, and eventually will come around to the fact that his mother-in-law is the bane of his existence.
I finish off one attitude-adjuster accompanied by light BS. Petr smiles and asks, “Paulski, you vant’ notter?”
“Sure,” I reply and I bust his chops, “I vant’ notter.”
“You vant punch in Schnabel?”
“You always threaten my nose.” I decide to egg him on. “What’s this I heard about your mother-in-law killing her toilet?”
Petr doesn’t like his mother-in-law. I met her twice and I don’t like her either.
She’s in her 80’s, batshit crazy and mean too. No wonder, she’s Mongolian/German. How the hell do you do that? MONGOLIAN GERMAN. How’s that for pissed off DNA? If you don’t gas your enemies you cut their heads off and then either suck on a bratwurst or horses’ blood.
Petr gives me a surprised look as he mixes another drink, “Where did you hear that?”
“Your wife said something about a dead toilet you had to fix.”
Petr looks at the clock. It is 5:00 PM. “My wife won’t be home for two hours” but he peers out the curtain to make sure she’s not parking her car.
“Wait.” He tells me. He goes out the door, locks the outside gate. Walks in and locks the house door. “Now we have early warning wife system. Only two barriers, but enough time for warning.” He takes an energetic stride to the kitchen, finishes making my second gin and tonic, and hands it to me. We clink glasses.
“OH…IS NOT MOTHER-IN-LAW! IS OUTLAW!”
I laugh because I just got him going “Outlaw huh?”
“YES! OUTLAW, this woman is…is…grandmother of Genghis khan! Stupid neighbor cop of hers, tells her she needs protection. He is a moron! Nothing can harm her. So she buys 357 magnum.”
“No way!”
“Yes, Paulski. This, this.. voooman bought 357. WITH BULLETS! She can’t drive her car without hitting telephone pole or non-moving house. She can’t change light bulb without my help. But she buys Clint Eastwood bazooka. So after 6 months her little drying up brain she decides maybe bullets in gun are bad idea. How to get them out? Paulski how would you take bullets out of gun?”
“You’re kidding right?”
“NO” He waits for my answer.
I accommodate him, “Pop the cylinder out from the barrel, push or pull the bullets out, right?”
“Yes, good. Good for you and world. That is what normal human does. But you are not OUTLAW! OUTLAW decides she will empty bullets in toilet. I am using the word empty with much generosity.”
I spit out my drink. “GET OUT!”
“YES, Mongolian babushka shot toilet dead. One shot. Boomski! She destroyed the toilet. Porcelain exploded into millions of little pieces. Water is shooting up from floor. Bullet makes nice hole in floor. Only good part was she got knocked on fat ass, but tragedy occur.”
“What tragedy was that?”
“Tragedy is she did NOT bang head when she falls down.”
“And Schvinyak had to buy, remove, and replace the toilet. You are a good son-in-law.”
We clinked glasses, “No, I am moron.”
A car pulls to the curb outside. Petr leaps up, separates the curtain and sneaks a peek. “Oh shit! Is Mongolian horde. You are staying to …to help me… yes? OUTLAW is with wife.”
I amble to the window, see his wife and his outlaw, shopping bags in tow.
“You promise me all your guns are locked up or at least out of the bathrooms?”
“Funny, you vant’ punch in Schnabel?”
I down my drink, “Sorry amigo, I gotta’ go. No telling what’s in those bags they are carrying. What if they just went to a gun store?”
“Paulski you need one more attitude adjuster.” He needs me to have the drink more for him than for me.
He’s been a good friend, “Yeah, okay, okay, but I’m out of here if she gets mean or… flashes a gun.”
Petr mixes me another quick drink. We will bolt out the back door and cower in the garage sipping. We’ll try to wait out the outlaw. One thing is for sure. I’m not using the bathroom while she’s here..