Our business plan is older than yours.
Whoa. She spelt evereything right, including 'tomorrow' and 'business'. What a babe. I started to think I was in ovor my head. Also she had discribed herself as extremly gorgoeous. In fact she signed her name "E.G." which she said stood for "Extremely Gorgous."....So if you are willing to take a chance
and meet me, let's GO FOR IT, Mr. Studly Hunk!
How does 8 PM Saturday sound at the ______ off
of Route __? I'll be wearing something red and
slinky and if things go well after dinner then
maybe we can get straight down to business..."
The next thing that popped into my head was a question that I asked myself: Coud somehow I be a hypocrit for just a few moments ago being filled with scorn over Granfather meeting a womon in a chatroom, when I just met somone online myself?
Actualy who gives a crap. I have needs too you know.
Well I did not. Then she wrote me anothor instant messege and said that she wanted to have some dirty chat with me right NOW. Well i did not do that either.
But I did do somthing. I wanted to be sure no one was playin a trick on me. This whole blind date thing coud of easily been cooked up by those mean Java programmers at work. So I asked for her phone numbor. Yeah right. That will get rid of her.
"Walt. Dude. Wassup."
Stu told me he was on a plane flying back from a meeting in San Jose with his laptop dialed in. So he logged off and called on the airline phone. I tell you Stu lives the life of a sucesful jet setting bachelor.
He said to me, "Guess what dude, I'm in First Class!" I said to him hes not alloud to fly First class. But he told me he travols so much he got a free upgrade.
"That is so cool," I said to him.
"Yeah, but I'm not wearing underwear, and I got this nasty rash on my nuts..."
I said to him VERY FUNNY. Anyway he apologgized. Then I told him abuot the phone convorsation I just had with 'EXTREMELY GORGOUS.' And how the fake name I used was "Studly J. Hunk." I was not ashammed to tell him that I thoght I was in over my head.
"You got protection, right?" Stu asked.
"You mean legal protection?"
"No, man. Gloves. Bags. Plastic. Windsocks. Bubblewrap. Coney Island Whitefish." Stu was sayin all these things i did not undorstand. Finaly he explained it to me. It was condems. I can be very stupid when it comes to commen sense. Stu told me that I had to go out buy some, NOW.
"Thanks Stu. You are the coolest guy," I said.
"Hey Walter, 'Stu' is short for 'Studly', did you know that?"
Of cource that wasnt true. But the perswasive way Stu talks, I almost believed him. Stu also told me that since i was such a stud now, not to book too much time with the ladies becuase I was suposed to set Friday aside to hang out with the Marketing guys.
"Can I help you?" he said. I repleid, "Yes sir, i woud like to buy some of THESE."
He said, "ALL of those?" (I had four diferent brands on the counter).
I said, "Yes I need them for this weekend." The man rang them up and gave me this long stare over the top of his reading glasses. He had these typicol drugstore reading glasses that had these little bobbly chains on the ends of the earpeice that swung slowly back and forth in disapprovol.
"You must be a popular fellow with the ladies," he said. I did not know how to respond. I coud not tell if he was being sarcaustic. So I gave him a blend between the truth and a shameless selfserving boast.
"Waal, I have a date, yes, yes. A first date. And based on conversations with her so far, well, um, I think I will be using ALL of these as a mattor of fact."
The man kept stairing at me. It was a hard ogeling stern stare. Then he spoke slowley to me as he handed me my change, "You're in here quite often, young man. You are an unusual fellow, and there's something about you i don't like."
I was very humilliated and just stood there. And then he said to me, "And the other day you stood by my pumps throwing and catching Chinese food in the air." Well, then I left quickly. One thing I am allways good at is makin a fool of myself.
I started to feel a little bad about buying the condems. It was a little presumptuous of me to think I will score in such a big way right away. And besides, do I realy WANT the kind of womon who will do it with a loser like ME on the first date anyway?
After I got dressed I went in the bathroom to brush my teeth. But my toothpaste wasnt there. (Yes, all the toothpaste in the house is my toothpaste; Granfather as you know does not brush his teeth.)
Now, who woud move my toothpaste? I did not notice Granfather anywhere in the trailor, but there was a pervading reek in there. Sudenly I drew the bathtub curtian and there standing in the tub was the old bastord. In his right hand was MY TOOTHPASTE.
"What the hell are you doin with my toothpaste?," I demanded.
"What is behind your back?"
"NUTHIN'", repeated the defiant basterd. I grabbed behind him and saw that in his reppulsive left claw he held a small bottol of Dawn dishwashing Detergent. Oddly, there was a large blob of toothpaste on his left palm as well. I stared at Granfather and he stared at me. I noticed somthing. The toothpaste was a blue jell type. The Dawn was the same color blue. Finally I undorstood.
"You are puttin soap in my toothpaste!" I screamed.
"GIT OUT!" he said. Then I smelt my toothpaste. There was SOAP in it. I started hauling off and hollerin real loud at him.
"Granfather! Why?" The beastly geezer paused for a moment and said, "CAUSE IT RUNS THROUGH YUH. IT'S A PRACTICAL JOKE, YUH DUMBASS."
I thoght to myself, 'Runs through you?' What the hell does that mean? Me and the evil monster stared at eachother for a few minutes, somthing that is harder for me to do than him. Sudenly it hit me what he was talkin about. I shoutad, "This is why I got diahrea on the subway!"
"NOW YER CATCHIN' ON. YOU AIN'T AS STUPID AS I DONE THUNK YOU WUZ."
"Did you put THAT SOAP in my travol toothpaste?"
"OH, YOU BETCHA," and then Granfather began laughing in his hideaous screech. Granfather has the most baldfaced bloodcourdling shreiking laugh. I remember when I was a kid and used to spend summers at Granfather's house and somtimes rats woud get into the feed barrols at night. The rats woud gorge themselves on grainfeed and get too full to hop out of the barrol and then the next morning when you looked in the barrol there was a disgousting suprise: a rat in there with this look on his face that seemed to say, "What the hell are YOU lookin at?, and by the way, in case you dont know, there are not too many ways to get the danm rat out of that barrol exept to say that there are more uses for a nice sharp hay fork than you might think. Once I had two rats impaled on one prong at once and the howling screeching noise they made in tandem was uniquely identicol to the sound of Granfather's evil laugh.
"WHY, WHY," I creid. Granfather poked his shockingly repulsive head in and said, "I DONE DID IT CAUSE I'M A NASTY RABID WEASEL OF AN EVIL OLD CRITTER. IF YOU DON'T KNOW THAT BY NOW, YOU'RE A DUMBER DUMBASS THAT I EVER THOUGHT."
"NOW JUST BE LUCKY I DON'T PUT STAPLES IN YOUR TOILET PAPER."
Then he paused, poked his demonic visage in once more and sneered, "YOU BETTER THROW THET TOOTHBRUSH AWAY TOO. I'D BEEN KNOWN TO LICK IT, RUB IT ON MUH FEET AND STICK IT GOD KNOWS WHAR WHEN YOU AIN'T LOOKIN."
I was so freakin angry with Granfather. I actualy did somthing to betray him too.
Until that moment, the family had been split on this issue, with me, and my Dad and Stepmom in California in favor of keeping Granps in the family, and the rest of the family against us. That has now changed. Uncle Zeke, who lives on the East Coast said that him and Uncle William, both of them Granfather's brothors, will be on there way to Texas that very week.
"So, Millerrrr," said Mr. Peckushay to me, "How's business?"
I was sort of coght off guard. I did not know what to say. Finaly I said, "Um, busines is Okay, I supose."
"Good!" said Peckushay, "We discussed business! Therefore, everything tonight is a deductable business expense!"
Evereyone laughed. Then we went inside.
Stu and the othor guys ordered martinis and big cigars. I never had a martini before so I got one too. I drank it down realy fast. I said to Stu, "What does all this cost?" I guesed with the cigars and drinks and covor charge (or perhaps uncover charge) it was allot.
"Don't worry about it. Hey Walt. Next round, we're all getting Rob Roys."
I asked him, "Whats in a Rob Roy?" and Stu said, "I dunno, but I always wanted to try one."
I have to say the Rob Roy wasnt bad. Next we got Old Fashionds which, to tell the truth did not taste too much diferent from those Orange Metamucil Margaritas Granfather makes in the summertime. (I actualy took a sip of one once, before the old bastord put his putrid lips on the blender.)
Stu swung his big meaty pork tenderloin of an arm ovor my shoulder, shook me and drunkenly pressed his snout in my face.
"You're one of the crowd now, Walter. The crowd of 'cool guys' at work." Stu turned to face his reflection in the mirror of the bar, and said, "Somthing corny about that, the 'cool guys at work', but thats what its all about."
I think I heard about this drink on the Extreme Food Channel. Or mabye it was on The Learning Channel. Or perhaps a James Bond book. Anyway, to make a Pussi Cafe you get a teaspoonful of brightly colored after-dinner liquore and pour it in a parfait glass. Then you pour in anothor one which is slightly lighter in weight. You end up pouring fourteen liqueors in all, and it all piles up one on top of the other, and all separated, like oil and water in the same bottol.
There is a more populor version that uses five layors of liquore. But only the Pussi Cafe uses 14 and it looks like a rainbow. You are suposed to get a diferent flavor in each sip of the drink.
Only one of the bartendors, an older fellow even knew how to make one, and he had to get a book from undor the bar to get the propor sequence of liqoures. All the othor bartenders were watching becuase its not every day you see such a great cocktail like a Pussi Cafe.
I would like to interupt this lesson in classey and elegent potable spirits to warn my readers that somthing very disgousting is about to happen. There. You are warned.
Okay then. As soon as they very gingerley set the Pusee Cafe down on one of these fancy paper doilys infront of me the nakad ladies start dancing right on the bar. I mean they were exactley on the bar infront of us. They didnt kick over none of the drinks but one of their highheels stepped on that paper doily. That is how close they were. Imediately Stu and Mr. Peckushay and the othor two Marketing guys start whoopin and hollering but just at that moment they also grabbed some cardboard coasters off the bar and put them on top of their drinks. I did not move fast enuogh to place a coaster on top of my drink. I wish to hell I did too because (here is that disgousting part I told you was coming up) somthing fell off one of the nakad ladies while she was dancin on the bar and I saw it land and there it floated right in the uppormost and presumably lightest of the fourteen liquore levols of my Pusee Cafe.