Monday, February 15, 2010

Nobody Tosses a Dwarf!

That is, unless the dwarf invites you to toss him...

This afternoon, my youngest brother, Timmy, was cheerfully telling me about a series of metal shows he had attended over the past weekend.  He was especially pleased about the final show, because it was his very first time crowd surfing, which is somewhat strange given that Tim attends some 50+ metal shows a year and never misses a circle pit.  That he had yet to experience this has something to do with the dwarf-like shape of his physique, an explanation of which dovetails nicely with a conversation I had moments ago with my father regarding this particular subject.

While carpooling home from our respective offices, my father was holding forth about the history of our family's clan, and in particular, our ancestors who had immigrated to Ireland from Scotland as mercenaries.  Dad then segued into talking about how our savage mercenary genes are distinctly prominent in my little brother, Timmy, who, if Dad had his rathers, would have become a renown wrestler in high school.  Dad went on to reminisce at some length about the bulk of Timmy's upper leg muscles ("like two logs, is what I'm telling you!" ) and how much larger still he would have grown, if only he had lifted weights with proper aplomb.  I interjected that Timmy is actually a pretty tough guy and proceed to tell him the story of his crowd surfing, which I recollect Tim recounting to me, as follows:

Tim:  So I make my way over to the biggest guy in the pit, about three times the size of anyone else around, and I say to him, "Hey!  Would you lift me up?" and with a grunt in reply, he hefts me over his head and tosses me onto the crowd!

Me:  That reminds me of that scene in Lord of the Rings where Gimli [the dwarf] requests that Aragorn toss him into a mass of soldiers during the Battle of Helm's Deep.

Tim {chuckling}:  Yeah, but the dude who tossed me was more like one of the trolls than a simple man!

I went on to relay to my father that Tim, in his estimation, "politely" smacked the people in front of him on the back of their heads to notify them that he was coming, because he didn't want anyone to be caught unawares and subsequently be dropped on their heads--

Tim:  Because I hate it when people fall on me.  It makes me so infuriated that I just want to punch them and I certainly didn't want to get punched.

Me {somewhat incredulously}:  So, you mean that you do punch guys when they fall on you?

Tim:  Hell, yeah!  I just keep punchin' 'em until they move away into the crowd.

Just then my dad interrupted my retelling--

Dad:  That is so bizzare!  That whole metal culture is just so strange.

Me:  No it isn't, Dad.  They have their own way of doing things--probably just as our mercenary ancestors did back in Ireland.

Dad only shook his head and laughed in bewildered wonder.