The Two Stooges…3

…Of course it didn’t come to that. Being juvenile in mind and in body both of us were placed on probation for six months with a stern warning. It worked as it was extremely embarrassing for us, especially me, given that the Morrison name was fairly recognizable in the hallowed halls of justice in this shit hole of a city. My Grandfather Morrison was a cop, his son-in-law was a cop and every cop of Scottish, Irish descent in this Orange shit city knew about this case. The Gaelic, Celtic grapevine was faster than today’s Internet. Like Minority Report, they all knew about me and this particular indiscretion before I did or before it even happened. I was doomed for in those days having any sort of record, misdemeanour or felony, was a fate worse than death as manual labour was about all one could hope to acquire in the employment world if one had a record such as this. As it turned out the son-in-law cop was very high up there on the cop scale so unbeknownst to me my name was expunged of any record. Whew! That would come in handy later.

Timmy always had a lot of money. Wads of it. His mother had him and his other siblings modelling for the various catalogues and magazines that were popular with the locals. He was paid very well for these showings. In fact his mother preferred these modelling outings to his schoolwork. He missed a lot of school and barely got by in Elementary School but in High School he had to repeat Grade 9 and 10 a plethora of times. Nevertheless, his financial largesse to us was his way into friendship, or so it seemed to him, as he played on this financial pecuniary card to fraternize with his so called favourite buds or eviscerate the feelings of those of us that he thought unworthy of his attention. In this way I felt sorry for him.

My mother was empathetic when it came to Timmy. He would show up at our door in the winter with the top part of his shoes missing, toes open to the elements, or wearing a thin summer jacket when temperatures were well below zero. It was obvious that he was neglected but at the time this never occurred to me. He was fun to be with, crazy in his outlook on just about everything and most of all he had money to burn! And, he loved the Stooges.

Timmy, Jimmymum, O’Grunts and I became inseparable in those drug induced summers of love days of the 60s. While everyone else it seemed had lost their collective minds to sex drugs and rock-n-roll we just carried on, squarely, boringly normal. We did form a band at one time with visions of rock n roll glory, had a few gigs, then disbanded as Jimmymum’s car was his real guitar, O’Grunts became somewhat of a druggie; a hipster in his Nehru jackets and exceptionally wide bell bottomed slacks. Bruce, our lead guitarist, left for India to discover himself. I told him that all he had to do was look in the mirror. Timmy and I just hung out…

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