Blows to the head are dangerous
Something somewhere recently reminded me of a true story from the gang's past. I know that only the people involved read this blog but I'm posting it anyway, so there, Lipp! Ah, the injokes abound.
Ah, Central America and what not -- moving on:
It was 1996 and we were watching the carrying of the Olympic torch through Augusta. We all stood on the sidewalk as a huge shadow of a man lumbered up the main thoroughfare of the city holding the flaming beacon aloft. He was Ray Mercer, native born Augustan and once famous boxer (who, incidentally, is attempting a comeback as we speak even though he's in his 40s, I think). His section of the run ended just past where we were stationed to watch, which was the church we all attended. After the flame was passed and we headed to our cars after chatting some, we saw good ol' Ray walking on the sidewalk in front of the aforementioned church. I guess his people had parked there since that was the end of his run and was a good place to get cleaned up and such.
At this point some background exposition is needed. We had recently (maybe even that day) had a church rummage sale and I had procured an ornate and very sharp owl statue. It looked eerily similar to the clockwork owl from Clash of the Titans. I have no idea why anyone would actually want this thing as a decoration and so it was to become the mascot of our shared apartment during our freshman year.
We had the owl with us and we needed a name for it so we brazenly walked up to the 1988 Olympic Champ and asked him to name it. The conversation went something like this:
"Hello, Ray Mercer," we all said in unison.
"Hello kids," Ray Mercer said in reply.
"Ray Mercer, we need a name for our owl," we said as we held the treasure proudly in front of this confused man.
"Owl?!" Ray Mercer said this with much astonishment and wonder. It was as though we were speaking a foreign language and he stood more upright as he took the owl from our hands. He looked at it intently for less than a second and this was his decree, "Owl!"
He had named our owl "Owl." Ray Mercer had said, "Owl?! Owl!" His inflection was different each time and we were dumbfounded. Our owl came to be known as Ray Mercer, Jr.
Too many punches to the head is a dangerous thing.
posted by Russell @ 10:38 AM
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