Classic Riverbank* - Geno Part II, The Beginning

Classic Geno*

As Geno stories go, this one is rather mild.

Nevertheless, this is the best way to introduce Geno. A little at a time.

A starter story, if you will.


Here is Geno with his new Billy Bob teeth, imitating the person who sells the Kentucky bird dogs.

Geno always wanted to be a cowboy (yeah, him and Kid Rock. But Kid Rock has one advantage over Geno. Kid Rock HAS fear).

I grew up on a ranch. We had cattle and horses, and I had to feed these animals every day. They eat a lot. Feeding them is not like feeding a dog. Carrying their hay bales and feed buckets will amaze you by showing you how much weight they eat every day. And they spend the rest of the day eating grass.

Did I mention they eat a lot?

I would be worn out after every meal. However, this kind of close interaction with large animals teaches you to respect them . Especially the bull. A whole lot of respect.

Respect out the wazoo.

And by respect, I mean fear. Sheer terror at times.

Geno was a city boy. But he wore cowboy boots. That apparently made him an expert on cattle , or so he seemed to think. Geno wanted to go to the barn with me while I fed the animals. He had seen them on TV he said, nothing to them. I think you can imagine the look on my face.
"Geno" I say, "stay away from the bull. Do not upset him; he's NOT a TV bull. And he outweighs two of your motorcycles."
No problem says Geno.

Why does it always turn into a large problem when Geno says 'no problem'.

Again, I tell him, "Leave the bull alone, this one has no sense of humor,” and half of that statement could be applied to Geno at times (No sense. And by 'sense', I mean 'fear').

So anyway (and don't ask me why I did not expect it, I was slow that day), Geno decides to play Bull Fighter.
No Geno, don't. That is a really bad idea. Really, really bad!
Too late though, nothing stops Geno, the Mighty Matador.

Well, if his mission was to piss that bull off, then he accomplished his mission.

I stood in the pasture watching not out of curiosity, but frozen in fear. This thing is big, heavy, fast and sharp in the front. Not Geno, no sir. He's egging the bull on.
"Come on bull, you think you're tough!", he's yelling.
"He is tough, Geno, he's wearing leather", I point out.
"I'll turn him into boots!", Geno proclaims.
"No, I think he's going to turn you into a rug", is all I can think to say.
"I ain't no rug! And no one's gonna turn me into one!", he challenges.

Yeah, that's what I'm hoping.

I am trying to calculate which one I could get to quicker; the barn, or the fence.
Neither looks close. Great strategy Geno, you pinned us in the middle of the pasture with a living bulldozer that's pissed off.

When I woke up that morning, that wasn't my first wish for how the day should go.

We are not getting out of this one.
Here comes Mr. Bull. Fast, heavy, sharp and big. Oh, and pissed. And the ground is shaking.
When a bull that large is coming at you that fast, you call him Mister and try to stay out of his way.

I was explaining to the bull, by pointing at Geno, who was at fault here. Well, fortunately, the bull took my argument that it was indeed Geno, and not me, who had upset the big guy.
Did I mention Geno could run?
Really fast?

Unfortuantely, he is heading for the barn, and the doors are closed.
Bad call Geno, I thought.
Turns out, I spoke too soon. In one swift motion, with Mr. Bull inches from his butt, Geno jumps, flies, and grabs the edge of the barn roof with his fingertips. In what can only be described as an act straight from The Flying Wallendas, he morphs into a gymnast and plants his feet squarely on the roof of the barn.

I was impressed.

I was wishing I could do that. For about three seconds. That's when the bull decided that if he cannot reach Geno, then I’d have to do. This bull was an equal opportunity mauler.
Go legs go, was the only thought I had. Mr. Bull was gaining fast and the fence looked so small from this distance. I’m never going to make it, I realize.

Thanks Geno, I waved to him with one finger (an act I'd be repeating many, many, many times). This was at a time when I was first starting to realize that Geno would start the trouble and vanish, leaving you in charge of 'damage control'.

It was at that moment that I understood why my father had placed steel cages at strategic locations around the pasture. And one was close. I dove in with nanoseconds to spare and became one hell of a source of entertainment for both the bull and Geno. I spent the next twenty minutes going between reasoning with the bull that I indeed had done nothing, and inviting Geno to go and have sex with himself. Geno said it looked like fun in the cage. I responded (grunted) that yeah, it was great. Come on down and join me. He didn't. He looked a lot more comfortable up on that roof than I, the human soccer ball, felt.

Later, Geno asked me why I didn't follow him. Superman himself couldn't follow Geno. Why didn't I this or why didn't I that. Why didn't YOU leave the bull alone?

But Geno can't leave the bull alone.
He can't leave anything alone.
And when asked why, he will say, "I didn't get hurt.”

Of course not, you're Geno.


And Geno, if you try to refute any part of this story, I'll call Ed.

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BONUS FACTOID

A few years later, Geno came over to my place for a cookout.
As we sat on my porch eating steaks, I asked Geno if he remembered that day and that bull.
"Sure, I remember. I'll never forget that bull. He was huge!” ,he said, "Why do you ask?"
"You wanna get even with him right now,” I asked him.
"Yeah, I do! What do do you have in mind?", he said through his smile.
Pointing at our steaks, I said, "Let's bite him."
"Alright!” Geno yelled, and then, while looking squarely at his steak, he said, "I told you I'd get you Mr. Bull."
Then he looked at me and added, “And I was right. He ain't tough!"

No he wasn't. He was very tender on our plates!

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*This Classic Riverbank has been re-edited and was originally published on April 06, 2006

*Coming up on the next Classic Geno;
Take one Geno, one stick of dynamite, and run for your life!