Fix Your Stupid Oven!
For those about to rock
FIRE!
We salute you
AC/DC - "For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)" - For Those About to Rock (We Salute You) - 1982
On one of our many adventures to downtown and Lakewood Shopping Center, Grandpa Theo and I stopped at the Lakewood Jack in the Box to chow down. Back then, in the 1970s, their Jumbo Jack was downright superb - big and juicy with lots of their wonderful, sweet, tangy Secret Sauce. It ran neck and neck with Burger King's Whopper as the best fast food burger.
Sadly, now they both suck, sad shells of their former great selves.
And, on that day, I had my first Super Taco, just introduced by Jack in the Box. It was a larger, heavily-stuffed version of their regular taco, a delicacy in which the shell was fried with the unique, finely ground, pasty meat mixture in it. The Super version added a generous amount of surprisingly good chunky salsa on top.
Now, the Super Taco is long gone and the regular tacos kind of suck, also sad shells (LOL!) of their former selves.
Grandpa loved the Super Taco and we both really dug those big onion doughnut things they called onion rings. I wolfed down my Jumbo Jack, but he opted to save his for later, returning it to the sack. Down Gaston Avenue we strolled toward its intersection with Abrams Road, the centerpiece of our neighborhood.
Grandpa Slips Me a Mickey
At that intersection was a Mickey Finn's Billiard Palace. It didn't seem much like a palace to me, but I guess that just sounded better than "pool hall." I was fascinated by the place and thought the big 8-ball on a stick atop their sign was just too damn cool. I was already pretty skilled at billiards, especially for a little kid, and had long wanted to go there. Dad said it was a no-go, for kids were not allowed.
As we walked by it on the other side of the street, I pointed that way and said I couldn't wait until I was old enough to go there.
Almost before I had a chance to finish the sentence, Grandpa grabbed me by the arm and about yanked me out of my shoes toward Finn's in a sudden spasm of jaywalking. It's a good thing no cars were coming.
ME: But...but...but Dad said I couldn't....
Theo: He was WRONG!
In we went and immediately the bartender gave me the stinkeye and said something to Theo. He went to the bar, had a few words with the fellow, put something in his hand, and, Jack in the Box sack in hand, ambled over to a chair, grinning and motioning at one of the many pool tables.
CAT-Uh-Strofe!
He loved that I showed such prowess with the cue, but, to be fair, the old guy loved everything I did. Bank shots delighted him, but what really rang his bell were my breaks, which were, shall we say, violent. After each one, he'd roar with laughter and say, "You make CAT-uh-strofe!"
Never had I seen pool tables so nice. It was a delight. I was a bit bummed that they had leather baskets and not ball returns, but it seems nice tables don't have that silly crap.
After a few rounds, we moved on to the next adventure. As we walked, he reached into the sack and grabbed his burger. "It make cold...we go make hot now." Into the Richmond @ Abrams 7-Eleven we went. He made a beeline to this newfangled thing people called a microwave oven (Mom always called them micro-ovens no matter how much she was corrected), laid his wrapped Jumbo Jack inside, turned the dial, and hit the button.
Problem was, back then, JJs were wrapped in colorful red and silver foil. Like, as in metal.
A mini fireworks show erupted within the unfortunate appliance. Theo grimaced, opened the door, poked at the burger, and resumed operation. The result was similar, so he did what any reasonable person would do - stood there and watched the feast of sparks and noise as the sparks turned to flame.
You Make-ee Make-ee Sparke-ee Sparke-ee Microwave-ee!
The store guy, a usually-friendly Oriental chap amusingly named "Bang," heard the nonstandard crackling and came over to investigate. Dude freaked the fuck out and, to put it nicely, recommended our prompt departure.
Grandpa opened the smoking oven, removed his foodstuff, grabbed me by the hand, and shot a hilarious directive at poor Bang:
Fix your stupid oven!
And, off we went. He soon removed the hot mess of a burger, eyeballed it, took a sniff or two, and dismissively flung the whole lot into the street.
All in all, a pretty fun day with the one and only Grandpa Theo.
End Stuff
After the Mickey Finn's experience, I was sold on shootin' pool forever. Soon after, on a jaunt to the Ross Avenue Sears (now the site of a Fiesta grocery store and strip mall) to get me some ugly green Toughskins, I managed to convince Mom to buy a pool table of our own. Right after we got it, Neila brought Reagan home for the first time and I took a few bucks off him in my first shot at being a pint-sized pool shark.
The Mickey Finn's Billiard "Palace" was condemned by the city and torn down in 1978 for the Abrams Bypass Project, which was something of a mess that never fulfilled the oft-stated promises.
In 1979, I was hit by a car and almost killed about exactly where the yellow car is in the above Jack in the Box photo. A few days later, Grandpa Theo died on Thanksgiving Day after a long, hellish decline. At the time, Dad was committing the "offense" of very briefly visiting his very nice family in Arkansas. For that, Mom made him pay.