Words.

"Words, words, words" by theumbrella of deviantart.com

Just a moment or two ago, we were all gathered in the kitchen, and I was reminded of a peculiar word. . .  Of Nik’s relationship to this word; of his Mum’s relationship to this word; of how their relationships to this word are not the same, and of how much words amuse me.

We are all different people, and so naturally we all have particular responses to specific words.  We each have a list of words and phrases that—for some subconscious reason—grind against one of our nerves in an unacceptable way.  On the flipside of the same coin, we each have a list of words and phrases that we find irresistible.  We can’t escape their magnetism, their wit, cleverness, and we use them frequently, or perhaps we even overuse them.  One of my ‘stepson’ Nik’s words of preference—when it comes to describing unfortunate members of society—is Hobo.

A frequent conversation may go something like this:

V. {Nik’s Mum.}:  Are you ready?  We need to leave in six minutes.

Nik: I’m ready. How many busses?

V.: Two.

Nik: Which one first?

V.: The one across the street.

Nik: What-thuh?  That’s the hobo bus!

V.: Don’t use that word.

Nik: But there’s hobos on it!

V.: Don’t use that word, please.

Nik: I’m not being disrespectful, just sayin’ there’s always hobo’s on it.  I don’t like the hobo bus, Mom!

V.: Nik!  Please don’t use that word.

Nik: What-thuh!?  Gonna flippin’ yell at me now?  I was being good for you but I’m not gonna be respectful no more if you’re gonna f*kin’ yell at me!

V: So you’re ready to go, right?

Nik: MomMmmMMMmmmM!?

V.: I asked if you were ready.  You are ready right?  You’ve used the bathroom, your shoes are on, you have your jacket, you’re ready to go?

Nik: How many stops?

V.: What?

Nik: On the hobo bus!  How many stops?

V.: Not many! 

Nik: How many minutes will it take?

I.: Less than a half-hour.

Nik: When are we leaving?

V.: Now.

Nik: What-thuh?  How come you didn’t tell me that!  I’m not ready yet!

. . . . .

As you may be able to tell, Nik also has a fondness for the word “What-thuh?”, rather like he’s about to say “What the f—!” but stops himself before reaching the derogatory expletive.

Apart from “What-thuh”, what is very amusing to me, is that while the word “hobo” crashes into his Mum’s ears like fingernails grating down a chalkboard, in typical everyday conversation hobo is Nik’s preferred word for a vast category of people.  People who appear high, people with plastic bags full of cans, people with dirty clothes, people who do not smell good, people who appear to be homeless, people who appear intoxicated, and sometimes merely people who are asleep on the bus.

In the philosophy of Nik, it is not disrespectful—it isn’t anything—it’s just what they are to him: hobos.  A pigeon is a pigeon.  A tiger is a tiger.  And in Nik’s eyes, a hobo is a hobo and he considers the word perfectly fine.

Well, it’s fine until it’s not.  For, I have accidentally discovered that there does exist one application in which Nik finds the word hobo unacceptable. . .

I: When were you going to take your bath, Nik?

Nik: What-thuh?

I: You need to take a bath today.

Nik: I’ll do it before I go to bed, I promise.

I: No.

Nik: But—

I: Listen: You always say you’ll do what you don’t want to do before bedtime.  And then in the evening, when the time comes to keep your promise, you don’t want to because you’re too tired.

Nik: Fine, I’ll do it after dinner.

I: That won’t work either, because we’re going out today, and you need to have a bath before we go out.

Nik: I don’t want to take a bath!

I: I’m sorry.  But you need to.  You didn’t take one last night, or yesterday morning, or the day before that. I don’t think you’ve used your deodorant, either.

Nik: Soooo!?  It’s my flippin’ deodorant!

I: Yes, but you need a bath, and you need to actually use your deodorant.

Nik: What-thuh?  Jefffffff!?  Ugh!  Whyyyyyyyyyyy?

I: {Attempt # 1: Patience in tact.}  Because it’s important to keep clean—

Nik: But—!

I: {Attempt # 2:  Patience and practicality in tact.}  Because we’re going out—

Nik: But—!!

I: {Attempt # 3:  Patience depleting.}  Because you just need to.

Nik: But I don’t want—!!!

I: {Attempt # 4:  Patience gone.} Yes I know, and I’m sorry, but you need to because you smell like a hobo!

Nik: What-thuh?!!! {Growls.}  I don’t flippin’ smell bad!

©  Jeffrey Puukka, 2010

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