Is That A Good Joke?
30 October 2013
Last night I dreamed that one of Marvin Mudrick’s daughters gave a poetry reading about Mudrick Transcribed. And it was awkward. Everything I write out of my own head these days comes out sounding like watered down Mudrick. (Why did I ever take on this project?) Anyway, better stick to notes:
Enzo watching Dino King early in the morning and screaming: “KILL HIM!” (Good thing our neighbors are rock stars.)
Enzo in the morning after he had a stuffy nose the night before.
Me: “Mom and I are trying to figure out if you’re going to school today. How to you feel?”
Enzo: “I feel tired.” We must have looked unimpressed. “I’m starting to limp.”
Teresa: “How does your snot feel?”
Enzo: “It feels bad. It feels like it’s going to blow and flood this whole house.” (He’s walking away toward the TV as he says this.)
Teresa: “You need to come in the living room.” He does, demonstrating his limp at a full run down the hall.
Teresa: “Mr. Larson said you’re starting math today. But if you’re really, really sick you don’t have to go.”
Enzo: “That’s it. I have to do math. I am going to school.”
Enzo: “Guess which era paleontologists like best?”
Kate: “I don’t know. Which?”
Enzo: “The Paleozoic! Is that a good joke?”
Sometimes I faithfully record his jokes without understanding them. Like one of the times that he was talking up our home town salmon the Chinook, how it’s better than the Atlantic and the Coho and the Char, he said, “The Chinook is King.” And I didn’t know at the time that another name for the Chinook Salmon is the King Salmon—fact that so perfectly suits his feelings.
Enzo: “Did you know that some salmon weigh as much as me? But to catch me you have to run down me. And out smart me.”