Blast From the Past: Part I

I was feelin’ a bit nostalgic the other night after I found some of my great-grandfather’s stuff in our attic. There was a ton of Jezabiah’s things up there including an old pair of sunglasses made out of tar paper, a pack of smokes rolled in asphalt and construction plans for a gas-powered taser. I guess that’s why his remains were never found and the night he died half the village he lived in burned to the ground. My grandmother used to say it was Satan coming to claim him for his own but I guess we can put that baby to rest for good. I didn’t know that great-granddad was an inventor but I remember my grandfather telling me how Jezabiah used to come up with all sorts of new ways to beat his kids.








I couldn’t give up smokin’ just to tase someone







After findin’ all of this stuff I decided to learn more about my family’s history. I wanted to go way back, I didn’t just want to find out the differences between my family tree and Beth’s, I’m pretty sure mine has enough branches to house the Swiss Family Robinson whereas Beth’s looks like a telephone pole. I decided to go out and get some fresh air to try and figure out how I would track down my roots. Actually Beth kicked me out of the house because she was watching Cirque du Soleil on TV and I called it Cirque du So-Gay.


















Inbreds

I decided to call Youngblood for some advice. He told me I needed to go see a gynecologist so I looked one up in the Yellow Pages and off I went. I won’t discuss what happened next but remind me to kick Yongblood’s ass the next time I see him. If he leaves me one more phone message asking me if I got good ‘cervix’ I’m going to seriously freak out.

After the swelling went down I went back to the Yellow Pages to find a genealogist. I figured that they were all the same so I went with Alfred B. Pickles and his company “HistorFree”. He guarantees to track down at least 15 of your ancestors in a day or you only pay half price. I’m not sure why the word “Free” appears in the name of his company, maybe it should have been called “HistorHalf-Price” but I guess it doesn’t have the same ring to it. After I found his office though I figured being picky about the name was the least of my worries.






I hope they can validate my parking





Once I made my way past the people passed out in the hall and the toppled vending machine I found Alfred’s office. He demanded to know why his secretary didn’t ask me to wait. I told him there was no secretary in the hall. He asked me if I was callin’ him a liar, I said no. Then he laughed hysterically and asked me if I needed a job, preferably in the secretarial field. I tell ya brah I thought this guy was three sheets to the wind but I know all of these artsy fartsy types are usually on drugs, that’s why I think all libraries should be converted into roller derby rinks.

Once Alfred settled down he told me how he would track down my family. I asked him how far back could he go and he asked me how far back I thought time went. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t any history before Jesus so I said “Jesus Christ”. Alfred just reclined in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Then he apologized and said he was so used to people swearing at him that he didn’t realize I was actually answering his question.








Alfred B. Pickles: nutjob, or genius?









Alfred told me that he could track some of my family down around Jesus’ time and probably even before then if my check cleared. He asked me to give him a day to find out some initial info, then he would call me when it was most convenient.

A day later the phone rang at 2:30 in the morning, it was Alfred. He told me that this was his most convenient time and began to explain to me how Daylight Savings Time was an Illuminati conspiracy. I didn’t have it in me to explain how he was wrong on so many levels so I just agreed to meet him at his designated place, the Jack InThe Box drive-thru. Turns out he was actually working at Jack In the Box and I had to order two Jumbo Jack’s with cheese to get the information on my first ancestor.

Written on a series of soiled napkins, Alfred told me that the Chapman’s can be traced as far back as Ancient Egypt. He identified a man named Djadogo, a special assistant to the pharaoh trained in tracking down escaped slaves and all around party animal. Djadogo was executed when it was discovered he carved offensive graffiti into the side of the Sphinx, ending a long feud between archaeologists whether a pharaoh named “Dinx” actually existed.








Djadogo offering an escaped slave an ancient cigarette










That’s all Alfred had for me this week, he told me he would have more information on my ancestors soon, unless I died. If that was the case he told me he would dance the Charleston on my grave.