***paradise-(Part 9) -Uncle Buck Calls For Christmas Poem by Coach Roth

Christmas Eve…
Maria had gone home
for the holidays,
Coach and Chumly
stayed behind…
Coach had to work...
Chumly had to be a dog.

Downed by loneliness…
napping early that eve…
Coach woke
to a soft kiss
a tender sigh
a warm body…
Chumly nuzzled his neck…

“Chumster…there’s something
seriously wrong about this.”

A knock at the door…
Coach asked...
“Friends of yours? ”
Obviously,
otherwise the Chum would be
barking furiously…

It was Uncle Buck…
6’4” and rock hard muscles…
a throwback to better times
of real mayonaise, beer and tequila...
the owner of a vineyard up north.
Buck churned out gold medal wines
while working the fields
alongside his help.
Coach had met him while
Bouncing at a bar…
But that’s another story.

Chumly stood on two legs
And licked Buck’s face
“C’mon Coach…
We’re going for a ride.”
The three of them piled
Into Buck’s pickup…
Back heavy with cases of wine,
Topper with sliding glass door.
Easy access…not politically correct.

“I take all my clients some
free bottles for Christmas.”
Chumly thought that was cool…
Gave Buck a lick.

Coach said
“I gotta be to work at 7 in the morning.”
“No problemo…”

Over the mountains…
Buck slides the door
grabs a bottle of wine.
“Try this…something new…”
Corkscrew opens…
“Glasses? ”
“Just swig it for god’s sake.”
“Pretty good.”
“Ought to be, goes for about
600 bucks a bottle.”
“Someone would pay
600 bucks for this? ”
“Not now, you drank out of it.”
Chumly thought that was funny,
Gave Buck a lick.

Restaurants…liquor stores…
taverns…good will…free food
doggy treats…good wine.
The trio made their way
up the Coast of California.
“Sh*t Buck…I have to be at work
in the morning…'
“Trust me Coach…
Would I let you down? ”
No answer from Chumly on this one.

One more stop…
A friend of Buck’s
who owned a motel
right on the ocean.
Only Chumly walking straight.

“Coach I have a confession…”
Says Buck…as he stumbles
into some bushes…
“We're half-way to Oregon...
Ain’t no way in hell
you’re getting to work in the morning.”
Chumly raises his eyebrows
At Coach’s stupidity.

A few bottles of wine later
While the sun rose sleepily
lighting the gray and blue
waves of the Pacific...
Coach and Chumly
for the first time in their lives
watched whales tumble
and roll going north…

Coach called work
And in a growly voice said…
“I don’t feel too good…
Think I have the flu.”
Uncle Buck said...
'I'll drink to that.'