Earl and Ethan Run Errands

A teenager learns Old Guy English whether he likes it or not

I’m taking a break from The Idiots Guide to Being Old to take you on a little journey through Old Guy lingo — phrases that somehow stuck in our brains without us ever noticing, until one day we opened our mouths and our parents came out.

What follows is fiction using real words.

The kid was late as usual. Earl sat in his daughter’s driveway at 8:50 on a Saturday morning, coffee going cold in the cupholder, wondering how long it takes to walk from the kid’s bedroom to the front door.

Susan had called on Tuesday and asked, “Dad, could you take Ethan with you on your errands Saturday? He needs to get out of the house. He’s been playing video games for seven straight days since school let out.”

Earl was happy to do it. He didn’t see the kid enough, and a day together showing him the ropes sounded fine by him. “What time?”

“Ten?”

“I’ll be there at eight-thirty. Make sure the kid is ready.”

Now here he was at 8:50 staring at the unopened front door. He’d honked twice already. He honked again, ready to blow a gasket.

The door finally opened and out strolled Ethan dressed in shorts, a hoodie, and slides, squinting at the sunlight like it had personally offended him. He hopped into the Buick without a care in the world.

“For crying out loud, I said eight-thirty, not eight-fifty. We’re burning daylight out here.

Silence.

“What’s wrong with you? You in a mood?”

Mumble.

“You get up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”

“I didn’t go to bed. I was playing Fortnite.”

“I don’t know what that is, and I don’t want to. Let’s get a move on it; we’ve got places to go and people to see.”

* * *

First stop: Gunderson’s Hardware on Route 14 to buy a new hose nozzle. The old one had been leaking since July, which bothered Earl to no end. The nozzle had made it through the rest of the summer with a rag and a prayer, but it was time to put this makeshift contraption to rest.

As they entered the store, Earl said “make yourself useful and help me find the garden aisle.” They found the sprayers and Earl picked up a metal one to check the price.

“Good grief. Fourteen dollars for a hose nozzle. When I bought the last one, it was maybe four bucks.”

“When was that?” Ethan asked. “During the Civil War?”

“Don’t give me any lip. The point is this is highway robbery.”

“It’s only fourteen dollars, Grandpa.”

“Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

Ethan stared at him and sarcastically asked, “Oh! Really? I thought that’s where my allowance comes from.”

“Don’t be a pill. I’m making a point.”

Earl picked up a cheaper one made of plastic that looked like it would last about six minutes. He picked the metal one back up and put the plastic one down, then picked the plastic one up again and weighed the two nozzles in each hand.

“Just get the metal one,” Ethan said.

“Hold your horses. I’m deciding.”

“You’ve been deciding for five minutes. It’s just a nozzle.”

“When you’re paying, you can decide in five seconds for all I care. When I’m paying, I’ll take as long as I please.” He put the metal one in the basket. “Fourteen dollars. Holy smokes.”

Earl headed to the register but ran into a guy in an orange vest. They got to talking about PVC fittings. Then about someone named Kowalski who had tried to fix his own sump pump and flooded his basement.

“Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, that Kowalski,” Earl said, shaking his head. “He told everybody he could handle it himself. Ha, he’s always been full of baloney. Guy watched one video on YouTube and thought he was a plumber.”

* * *

Back in the car, Earl checked the list. Next: the shoe repair place, then lunch.

“You hungry?” Earl asked.

Ethan shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I could eat a horse. Let’s get through Tony’s and then we’ll grab lunch.”

* * *

Earl’s old friend Tony had run the shoe repair store for what seemed like forever. They had been friends since way back when, and seemed to know each other like the back of their hands. They picked up talking like no time had passed at all.

“How’s your brother?” Tony asked. “He still with that woman?”

“Which one?”

“The one from Palatine.”

“Nah, they never hit it off. He took her to dinner and she told him he chewed too loud.”

Tony laughed. “Sounds like Frank.”

“Frank’s got a screw loose, always has. But he’s on the level when it counts. Last year he drove four hours to help me move a couch. I told him I didn’t want him to make a special trip, but he showed up anyway. Never bellyached once.”

“He still dating?”

“Dating? Oh, he’s always dating. Last month he was chasing some woman from his bowling league. I told him he was barking up the wrong tree because she’s half his age and twice as smart. But does Frank listen? Took her to some fancy restaurant, spent a fortune, and she told him halfway through dinner she was seeing somebody else. Now he’s in a pickle because they’re on the same team and she won’t even make eye contact.”

Tony was laughing. “He sure gets himself in hot water.”

“Every time. And no wonder things never take; his dates can’t get a word in edgewise because Frank just talks and talks and talks.”

Tony reached over the counter and handed Earl’s newly repaired shoes to him. Earl gave the shoes a once over and said, “not too shabby. Not too shabby at all.” Ethan eyed them and wondered who gets shoes resoled?

* * *

By the time they got back to the Buick, Earl’s dogs were barking. He’d been on his feet all morning, coming and going.

And the kid--he hadn’t looked up from that damn phone all morning. Earl wondered if a kid who stared at a screen all day would ever amount to a hill of beans. He kept that thought to himself.

“I forgot, we gotta swing by Lou Petrosky’s place before lunch. He ordered a part for his snowblower and I picked it up for him.”

“It’s April.”

“It’s best you buy that stuff off-season, sonny boy. Lou ordered a carburetor back in February for twelve bucks. Come December, that same part costs an arm and a leg. That’s called thinking ahead.”

Ethan said nothing.

“When you get older, you’ll understand.”

“You say that about everything.”

“Because it’s true about everything.”

Lou’s house was three blocks away. Earl pulled up, grabbed a small box from the trunk, and walked to the door. Lou answered in a bathrobe.

“You look like death warmed over,” Earl said.

“Threw my back out.”

“Doing what?”

“Sneezing.”

Earl shook his head. “We’re not spring chickens anymore, Lou, ya need be more careful.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Here’s your carburetor. Put it somewhere you’ll remember.”

“Earl, you really didn’t have to make a special trip.”

“No skin off my nose. I was in the neighborhood.”

Back in the car, Ethan asked why Lou didn’t just buy the thing online.

Earl shrugged. “Lou’s cheap as all get-out, and he’d never pay to have anything delivered. So I bring it to him. That’s what friends are for.”

* * *

Lunch was at a place called The Golden Egg. The floor was brown linoleum, the booths were orange, and the whole place looked like it had been frozen in amber sometime around 1978 and nobody had thought to thaw it out. The menus were laminated, and the waitress called Earl “hon.”

Earl ordered a patty melt and a cup of coffee, black. He ordered Ethan a cheeseburger and a Coke without asking. The drinks came first; Earl took a quick slug of coffee and immediately started coughing.

“Went down the wrong pipe,” he said, eyes watering, pounding his chest with his fist.

A few minutes later the waitress set the plates down and Earl looked approvingly at his patty melt. “Now that’s the ticket,” he said. Ethan looked at his cheeseburger and said “can you pass the ketchup?”

“Is your arm broken? It’s right in front of you.”

Earl devoured his patty melt while Ethan made short work of his cheeseburger. Earl was full as a tick by the time he pushed the plate away. He told Ethan about the time his father, Ethan’s great-grandfather, ate a whole raw onion on a bet.

“That sounds like a bunch of malarkey,” Ethan said.

Earl looked up. “What did you just say?”

“Malarkey. That didn’t happen.”

Earl stared at him for a long moment, then broke into a grin. “Well, I’ll be. You are listening.”

“Whatever.”

“For the record, your great-grandfather really did eat that onion. He was off his rocker, but he did it. Your great-grandmother said he smelled like a deli counter for a week.”

“Was she pulling your leg?”

Earl’s grin got wider. “Now you’re cooking with gas, sonny boy.”

The bill came and Earl put on his glasses to give it a quick look-see.

“Nine-fifty for a cheeseburger. What in the Sam Hill?”

“Grandpa, that’s pretty normal.”

“Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do. When I was your age, a burger cost a buck and it came with fries.”

“When you were my age, there were dinosaurs.”

“The mouth on you.” But Earl was smiling when he said it.

He paid in cash, left his usual 10% tip, and they walked back to the Buick. The sun was out, and it seemed Spring was finally here.

“Alright. Let’s hit the road, sonny boy.”

* * *

Earl drove with both hands on the wheel — ten and two, always ten and two — humming along to something on the AM station that sounded like it was recorded when the Dead Sea had fish.

“Grandpa?”

“Yeah.”

“What does ‘living the life of Riley’ mean?”

Earl glanced at him. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Grandma says it about you.”

“Really? How d’ya like that. It means you’ve got it easy; everything’s going your way and you’re sitting pretty.”

Ethan thought for a moment and asked, “Do you think you’re living the life of Riley?”

Earl was quiet for a second. “Some days, maybe. Your grandmother says I am, but mostly she’s being sarcastic.”

“Grandma’s funny.”

“Grandma THINKS she’s funny. There’s a big difference.” He paused. “But I’ll tell you something — forty-two years, and I still can’t imagine the place without her. Every night she tells me ‘sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.’ Every single night.”

“You love her.”

“Keep your yap shut. Don’t you dare tell her I said that.”

* * *

As Earl pulled into the drive, Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t immediately reach for the handle.

“Thanks for coming along, sonny boy. You weren’t entirely useless.”

“Thanks, Grandpa.” Ethan paused, and then said, “can we do this again next Saturday?”

Earl looked at him not sure if the kid was serious.

“I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty. And I mean eight-thirty, not eight-fifty.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“And Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“The stuff I said about your grandmother…. mum’s the word. Keep that stuff between you and me.”

Ethan nodded. “Mum’s the word.”

“Sonny boy, one more thing. Don’t get all wound up before bed playing that Fright-night thing. You need your beauty rest.”

Ethan closed the car door and walked up the driveway where Susan was waiting for him.

“How was it?”

Ethan thought for a second. “Better than a stick in the eye,” he said as he went inside.

END