Retribution and Lego
Uncle Ian arrived late last night from Chicago. He brought gifts. It was almost the very first thing that he did, besides hug his niece. He asked Zoey to close her eyes, then he dug into his bag, and pulled something out...
A #19 Toews jersey.
Glen, you wily bastard.
No matter if it's a Al Capone or Glen Byers, retribution from Chicago comes swiftly, and has, I suspect, always been that way in the Windy City. Don't mess with a south sider, I suppose, is the message here. I knew the winds of misfortune would blow back my way after sending Meredith's father a Prince Fielder jersey following last season's White Sox collapse, and I suspected it was nearing retribution time when the Blackhawks decided that they weren't going to lose a hockey game for weeks on end, but I must admit, the Toews jersey caught me by surprise. A hail of 'take that' gunfire from a passing car, and there lying in a pool of his own self-loathing...me...with a daughter in a Blackhawks jersey.
It's all good fun. I kind of like the Blackhawks. Well played Glen Byers...well played.
The hilarity of the moment lasted all of twenty minutes before Zoey suggested that we all settle in for a late night game of Lego. So I built a grey fighter jet and shot the hell out of that jersey any chance I got...but the Gods are fair guys, and in my thoughtless cathartic fiddling it seems I taught my daughter how make the gunfire noise while pretending to fly a genuine Lego plane. Oops. Glen Byers 2...Brian DeWagner 1.