Franky was an employee my father-in-law and I had for our business, and a very good one, when he showed up for work. He had some personal issues, which were sad, not funny, so I won't go into them. However, he did have a sense of humor above it all. I also employed my younger cousin while he tried to "find himself"just out of high school. He was my favorite aunt's son, and I felt an obligation to return some kindness. The problem is, he really seemed to complain more than actually work. He was always asking for a raise, which he didn't deserve, and I would do a verbal dance with him about the fringe benefits ( free coffee, snacks, lunch, etc) he enjoyed. This didn't stop him from asking one day, " Besides these fringe benefits I get, tell me what else I get around here for doing nothing?"
To which Franky yelled out from the other end of the shop, "Your pay!"
My father-in-law, Franky, and I laughed until just this side of hyperventilating. My cousin's face tinted between red and purple, and he quit after two more weeks. Probably just as well, I wasn't getting through to him the concept of hard work.
Getting back to Franky. He had a fear of good health. Doctors, dentists, and the like' he wanted no part of. He had a pirate's smile which not only looked awful, but wasn't healthy either. My father-in- law offered many times to pay to have Franky's teeth fixed; all he had to do was go... No go, for Franky.
There was a very good dental school in the area at which my father-in-law decided to get some work done,as he had been a bit negligent also. If you didn't mind being a guinea pig, the treatment was very thorough, scrutinized by actual dentists, and best of all, dirt cheap. So my father-in- law tells Franky again that he'll pay for him to go, but he will go first, and tell Franky everything that they do as the treatment progresses.
Everything was going well at first, the x-rays, the cleaning, etc. Franky seemed to be taking an interest, as well as mustering some courage. All very good to this point. The teaching clinic informed my father-in- law that he did need some minor oral surgery, but it was no big deal. This didn't throw Franky either; after all, it wasn't his mouth yet.
After having this minor surgery one morning, my father-in-law stopped by the shop that afternoon, looking chipper, as if he had canceled the appointment. Franky noticed that he had two very thin red lines on his cheeks, and asked what they were about.
"Oh, my jaw was slightly out of alignment, so they had to break it and reset it, and the lines were just a guide, and it really didn't hurt at all."
Good thing I was standing next to Franky, because he started to keel over. I caught him, then I started laughing, along with my father-in-law.
The laughter cleared Franky's head, and he said "Son of a bitch!" He knew he'd been had.
He never did go to the clinic.
Would he have gone if we didn't goof on him? I don't think so.
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