I Was Naked On The Roof But The Cat Was OK!
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About this ebook
Was Naked On The Roof But The Cat Was OK! introduces us to the strange and funny world of Steve Scearcy. This award winning author experiences the world a bit differently than most and the results are laugh out loud fun. These 50 essays are perfect for that long commute or just giggling in your favorite chair. Steve introduces us to a strange cast of real life characters. His wife Missy may read to you from a children’s book about farting dogs. His dog Bella, who eats crayons and eliminates them as colorful stalagmites, may decorate the yard in your honor. Phantom, the black snake that lives in the basement, may honor you with one of his chaos-inducing appearances. Kitty Kitty Meow Meow, the notorious cat, may try and lure you onto the roof. "I Was Naked On The Roof, But The Cat Was OK" is delightfully funny and at times touching. The book will brighten any moment and affirm that life is pretty darn sweet.
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I Was Naked On The Roof But The Cat Was OK! - Steve Scearcy
A Prologue
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It is always good to set the stage so that you know a little about the cast of characters. Since these stories represent events in my life, it is probably important that you know who I am.
So, I am neither young nor old. I am in an age bracket that at one time in human history was referred to as the dearly departed.
But, thanks to clean living, that age bracket has now become commonplace. I am active, working, and still busy raising the youngest of three boys. In my life, I have been a writer, a producer for stage and film, a marketer and a sales guy. I have interviewed line cooks and people that have graced the covers of magazines. I have come to know there is little difference between the two.
My favorite job has been that of a father to three boys. I have lost all my hair in that process, but it has been a blast. I like to spend evenings drinking a glass of wine and listening to music with my wife of over three decades. We talk and dream of winning the lottery and growing up to become adults; one of these will never happen. Together, Missy and I have endured pats on our backs and some hard knocks, but have plowed our way through it all.
If my life had chapters, they would be entitled: Big John, Little John, Fat Boy, Little Bit, Nellie, Bella, Corky and Kitty Kitty Meow Meow. These are the dogs and one cat that have graced my life and shared my days. My mother is my greatest inspiration. She is hard, soft, inspirational and a kick in the pants all in one person. All of these things help you know me and help put these stories in context. But the most important thing to know about me is, I love people. Some are easier to love than others, but I am drawn to people and their tales. And so, with the stage set, here are a few of my life stories.
Rock On!
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It has been years since I attended a rock concert. I believe the last one was in Kansas City, and the attraction was a group called The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. Contrary to their name I found their hygiene and their music acceptable. Back in that dark and backward era, there was only limited use of amplifiers and big speakers. The audience had to be quiet to hear the music.
Well, let me tell you, things have changed. Yesterday, a client gave me tickets to a concert at the Sprint Center. These tickets were worth hundreds of dollars. I was excited. I ran home and announced to the family we were going to go see Halestorm and Eric Church tonight!
Oh.
My wife responded, Tonight’s my night for the food channel.
My son said, There’s something good on my iPad.
In a huff I turned around and ran upstairs to get dressed for the concert. Nice shirt—check. Got to find my tight jeans. Crap! They're all tight! I’m all dressed, on my way, and feeling cool.
After going through security I was given a wristband
for free drinks and led to a standing position just inches from the stage. I was a bit self-conscious since I was alone and determined to fit in.
The first group came on stage and started to rock. This was Halestorm. The crowd jumped up and down, so I jumped up and down. They held their hands in the air, so I did the same. They made their little finger and their pointer finger stand out, so I did the same. I’m still not sure what it meant, but I was part of the crowd. I was still cool. The object of this game was to try and out yell the performers on stage. It was a mighty battle of volume.
By the time the headliner hit the stage I was wheezing, hoarse, deaf and had cramps in both my legs. My shoulders ached from keeping my arms in the air, and my hands were having spasms from contorting my fingers. But as Eric Church, the headliner, hit the stage my concert comrades were revved up once again. The cute young thing next to me smiled in my direction.
You’re cool for an old guy,
she tenderly screamed at the top of her lungs.
Now I was revved up again, too. Musical mayhem continued as we jumped, yelled, and swayed. Then from somewhere in the back of the crowd a pair of women’s panties was airborne making a graceful flight heading to the stage...and then another pair...and another. The girl next to me somehow rescued hers and launched them.
Maybe it was the band on my wrist that had given me free drinks or the fact that I was there alone and wanted to fit in. But the moment my Fruit of the Looms left my hand I knew I had made a mistake. I had not taken into account the additional elastic, so rather than a gentle arc my tighty whities
had the velocity of a jet airplane. They shot beyond the edge of the stage arching up higher and higher. One would think that in an audience of thousands, a man’s pair of medium sized underwear flying overhead would not draw so much attention. But they did. I was asked to leave the concert.
As I drove home I calculated the score. Kicked out of a concert. Yep. Going home with no underwear on—commando! Yep, I’m still cool after all these years.
Dream on, Steve...Dream on!
Sing Along!
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It was a beautiful spring day, and I was stopped at a stoplight. A car with four young ladies pulled up beside me. Their windows were rolled down. Their music was playing loud as they sang along. They swayed, sang, and laughed between sips of icy drinks.
I remember those days of spring, the first warm days. The music was different, yes, but the windows and the breeze, the music, my friends and not a care in the world is something that I think are the same.
I shared this spring day with the girls through several stoplights. But many of my fellow comers and goers
didn't seem to remember those long ago days that I was recalling. They frowned at the loud music. They wrinkled their foreheads and strummed impatient fingers on their steering wheels as the girls of spring celebrated. A pity.
And so to you, the boys and girls of this spring, I say be careful, be safe, but sing all the words to all the songs at the top of your voice. Don’t hold back for anything!
And to those that look on in disapproval, perhaps you are just acting your age. Me, I am rolling down my windows, turning up the music, and I’m singing.
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine...
You’re welcome to sing along, or if you just have to...act your age.
Don’t Answer
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Proverbs 21:19; Better to be lost in a desert than live with a quarrelsome and angry wife.
I would have given anything to be lost in the desert. My entire family had our camels packed and was ready to join the caravan. My wife of years was suddenly, in a word, horrible. She was cross with the kids and downright mean to me. That Thanksgiving she complained about everything. When I asked her most kindly if she had taken her medication, her response was concerning:
Do you know where I put my handgun?
She brought her mood up to the doctor since she was going through menopause and on hormone therapy. The doctor was sure it was the medication and changed it. We were hopeful.
At Christmas, she was the Grinch! She ate Christmas dinner, and when I asked for her help cleaning up the kitchen she said, Yes,
and proceeded to snore loudly until it was time to heat up the leftovers. The children were afraid of her, and so was I.
We returned from the lake on January 2nd and around 8:42PM, the boys and I were startled by tremendous crashing noise followed by a scream that could have come from a lovelorn Yeti. It was a wild scream.
The three of us tracked down its origin to the bottom of our basement steps. There lay my wife writhing in pain. The toes on her left foot were pointing in a direction they should not have been pointing. Based on her behavior the past weeks, we looked at each other certain that one of us had helped
her down the stairs. We could not tell who the guilty party was.
She had fallen all 13 steps. An ambulance was called. At 9:30AM the following morning, Missy was in major surgery. It was a badly twisted break.
The doctors screwed, hammered, and welded. I