There are a few more funny stories to tell about her.
My sons’ father had a rule: “No throwing in the house.” That rule was written in stone. Absolutely NO throwing in the house.
Well, he woke up one morning and heard some of the boys in the basement. It was son 2 and son 3, if I remember correctly (I’ll start calling them Thing 1, Thing 2, Thing 3 and Thing 4 eventually – rent-a-kids will get their own monikers).
They had a cheap ball that I bought at the grocery store, intended for them to play with outside, but they were THROWING IT IN THE HOUSE. The lecture started in the basement, where they started throwing it, and I got to hear the lecture all the way up from the basement to the top floor.
BUT – they were throwing in the house, the big “No-No.”
I was upstairs trying to study, do my lessons and work, but I could still hear the lecture from the basement. It just got louder, and louder and LOUDER.
They came up the steps from the basement, and finally made it to the first floor. I’m still at my desk in the loft, trying to study and work, but I really couldn’t concentrate with all the ruckus. The lecture about throwing in the house was going on at full blast – and I just sat in front of my computer trying to attend to my business.
Their dad had the paddle in his had, and he was –very- animated with it. Not on the kids’ butts. He just swung it back and forth as he lectured.
Finally, the paddle slipped out of his hand.
It bounced off the floor and hit one of the gas-filled, double-paned windows in the living room.
Complete silence for about 10 seconds.
The next thing I heard was “Bess, don’t say a f’in word!”
He then –calmly- explained to the kids that was a perfect example why you don’t throw in the house. He could afford to pay for it, and they couldn’t.
That’s when I fell on the floor, hand over mouth, laughing so hard I thought I’d pee my pants.
I duct-taped the window, and left it like that for a month before I took it to get it fixed, for the sake of posterity.
Don’t throw in the house, ya’ll!
- Bess :-)
A jack of all trades, Bess Tuggle has been a Covington resident since the late 70’s. She's been a K-Mart cashier, cabinet builder, vet tech, office manager for a beef cattle ranch and water well company (where she was able to hold benefits for D.A.R.E. and Scouts), a court reporter, business manager, assistant at a private investigation firm, legal assistant, convenience store clerk, landscaper and elementary school substitute teacher. Her greatest pleasure is being a wife, mother and grandmother. Her stories are all real, and all names will be withheld to protect the innocent, and also maybe the guilty, depending on the crime & the Statute of Limitations.
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