Soooo, you are probably wondering what in the world I'm going to do or say about Cheech. Hold onto your butt!
First let me say that I really prefer reading posts that include pictures. It could be some sort of psychological thing from when I was a kid and read books with pictures. Who knows? It is what it is.
So, about Cheech. Here's the story. On Christmas Day 09, my mom and I were in the kitchen getting dinner prepared while dad, Dan, and Steve sat on the couch in the den playing with their new Ipods/Christmas gifts. It was about ten minutes after 1p and I heard a rap on the door, the door open and someone walk in. Being that it was around the time Uncle Ron (our only guest we were expecting) was supposed to arrive, I assumed it was him. Right?
About 3 minutes later, as I was bringing something to the dining room table, I caught a glimpse of my dad walking towards our front door with a man that looked exactly like Cheech (the picture you see above). WHAAAA? I ran back into the kitchen and was semi-freaking out. Mom hadn't seen what I'd seen so I quickly told her that the guy that came in our house was NOT Uncle Ron!!! My mom blew it off and said "Uncle Ron lost a little bit of weight. It's him". And I said "No, you dont understand. It's NOT Uncle Ron. This guy had a huge moustache" And again, mom blew it off and said "YOUR Uncle Ron has a moustache. It's him." Finally the third time was a charm and my mom finally believed me. She ran towards the front door to see what was the matter.
By this point, my dad was outside with Cheech. Mom met them outside and conversations were had. When mom came back inside I was so anxious to see what the hey was going on. Apparently, Cheech was headed to some house on our street but due to a severe burnout, I suppose, he didn't know the address or what the house looked like. So, he gave our house a shot and just meandered straight in. He beebopped into the den where my dad and the others were hanging out and just stood there. My dad looked up at him and in typical Wild Bill fashion, asked "wrong house?" Yup. Wrong house.
So, dad walked him out and tried to help him locate the correct house on our block. But, to top it all off and before Cheech could ride off in the sunset, he had to get his mode of transportation (his bicycle) off of the lock and chain from our back gate. Classic.
We don't really know what happened to Cheech, his blue vintage puffer jacket, and his bike but we do hope he had a blessed Christmas.