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During the day today, I needed to swing past the drive-thru at my bank. I got there to find long lines, and resigned myself to spending a bit of time there. An inveterate people watcher, I began to inspect the cars around me for someone 'interesting' to watch. A quick scan of my neighbors found no attractive women to fantasize about. Damn. Better settle for weird. I looked to the car on my right, and lo, paydirt. The late-model Cherokee held three occupants, but, from the look of it, those three shared the intellectual capacity of perhaps one and a half. It appeared to be a mother with her two 'tard boys, out for a little excursion.

Mom wore the cares and sorrows of a woman twice her age in her wrinkled and frowning face. She gazed off into the sky, paying little attention to her two charges. Her eyes, in particular, were sad and worn looking. I wondered if she knew whether it was her defective genes, or hubby's that resulted in the outpouring of 'tard birth from her loins. Just wondering who to blame, you know. Anyway, imagine her pride on Mother's Day!

There were hints of an emerging trailer park queen about her, but she hadn't quite evolved to that point. She was woefully under the necessary heft and girth, and she had not yet graduated to a thrift-shop wardrobe. I am confident, however, that with a little focused effort, she could become a candidate for the Springer show within a year, two at most.

But, I digress. The stars of the show were clearly the boys. Both mongoloid, the one in the front seat looked much brighter than his brother, who sat behind mom. They both wore caps, and with a little neck craning, I could see that the hats bore their names in white iron-on letters. Perhaps they were souvenirs from a trip to a local fair, or, possibly part of mom's 'tard management strategy', in case she lost them at the mall. The one in the front seat was labeled "KENNY". His face narrower, his features less round, able to keep his mouth halfway closed, he appeared to be a higher functioning lad. He wore glasses, which lent a dignified and intellectual air to his countenance. He reminded me somewhat of the 'tard-boy that played in that "heartwarming" family TV show a few years back, except he wasn't quite as bright looking. I can't recall the name of the show, but I'm sure someone will. His brother, "TIMMY", looked as though he had been much more seriously shortchanged in the genetic material department. Timmy had the broad round face, vacant eyes and drooling open mouth of a true mongoloid. Less animated than Kenny, and slouching against the restraint of his shoulder belt, Timmy was clearly befuddled by most of what was around him.

As I stared over at him, little Timmy slowly turned toward me. I'm not sure what motivated him, I'd like to think he was aware of my boredom, and sick need for entertainment (maybe I mean "need for sick entertainment"), but truthfully, I think that's unlikely. At any rate, lil' Timmy fixed me in his baleful stare, and without any discernible movement, proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach on the inside of the window. He sat calmly while a yellowish, mostly liquid, stream of vomit gushed forth in potent waves, splashing off the window, back onto his shoulder and face. Kenny was the first to notice, and he began what appeared to be agitated laughing. Mom spun around to help but there was little to be done.

I was curious what mom was going to do. Would she pull out of line and deal with the mess, or let Timmy sit tight until she could conduct her business, then exit the line more gracefully. I watched as she barked out some orders to Kenny, and he obediently exited the car, opened the rear passenger door, climbed in, and began swabbing the puke off of his brother's face and clothes with Kleenex. Of course, we all know that Kleenex are hardly the appropriate product to use in such a situation. As soon as the wet barf soaked the tissue, and reached his hands, his laughter and glee with the whole situation faded. He began to show his distaste, as his mom pulled wad after wad of Kleenex and thrust them into to his increasingly unwilling hands. Eventually the sights, smells and stimulus must have become to much for Kenny, because in mid-swab, he opened his eyes and mouth wide, and, lurching forward, he donated his lunch to Timmy. He caught Timmy on the shoulder and back with his first heave. Having completed his humanitarian gesture, of sharing, he disappeared below my field of vision. Kenny's vomit was not as runny, so the chunks stayed put on Timmy. Decorated twice, Timmy looked just ducky by this time.

I was nearly doubled over my steering wheel at the antics going on next to me. I was waiting for mom to turn around and blow chunks on Timmy, if for no other reason than to make it a true "family affair". Sadly, I suspect her charmed life of living with Kenny and Timmy had given her a strong stomach for such things. Unfortunately, my line moved forward at this point, and I was unable to keep a close watch on them any more. I was nearly unable to compose myself to deal with the teller, but managed to choke back the laughter enough to get through. After completing my transaction I pulled away from the bank, but not without glancing into my rear view mirror to bid a fond farewell to Kenny, Timmy and mom. They made my day. I hope they made yours as well.

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the old bastard