02 August 2008

How 'bout a blow job?

Apparently, TBB flew into Bham Thursday night. I have NO idea why he'd do that...if I had been him and the shit had already hit the fan, I'd have been sitting my happy ass in New Orleans until Sunday, eating well and hanging out at the crap tables.

When my plane landed in Bham Thursday and I took my car and started home, he started calling me. Best I can figure, he called over 150 times. I, of course, did not answer because not only was I on the phone to the oral surgeon who was in FLORIDA with her kids, but I had no intentions of listening to his sorry-ass apology. Turns out, he wasn't apologizing.

Imagine that.

Thursday night he called about 11:30 from the Holiday Inn at the airport. I was asleep and answered the phone and he was on a TEAR. Unfortunately, his conversation consisted of questions that I had assumed were pretty much self-evident: "How do you intend for me to get home?" "Do you even GIVE a shit?" Since I thought these issues were already settled, I just didn't answer most of the time. I think he slammed down the phone and called back about six times...good thing it was late night and he wasn't wasting minutes.

Friday afternoon he called from his cell phone. He was on his way home. Someone would need to pick him from the car rental place.

I suggested he call his dad.

He did.

Long about five o'clock, they pull up and he gets out with his stuff. I heard him come in the front door and go into the living room and set his bags down. Ruffled through the mail and papers on the dining room table. Poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen.

Walked into the den where I was, stopped and looked around and then said, "How about a blow job?"

Okay, I kept scowling for at least...five seconds. Maybe six but I'm not betting. Finally, I just cracked UP...after nearly two days of no sleep and 24 hours of this goddam uproar and three hours sitting in the airport and two hours coming home and the fucking police station and having to find a CAB that took credit cards because all I had was a $20 and an Amex and I haven't EATEN and my face hurts and...what a line. What. A. Line.

No, he didn't get a blow job. But my point had been made and to paraphrase Richard Pryor, "I warn't mad no more, either."

3 comments:

Amblus said...

I have to give Big Boy credit: that was funny as hell. I mean, what else could he have said?

fatboyfat said...

What a line indeed. I must try that with Katie sometime. I reckon I'd be eating through a straw for months.

Melissa said...

Not sure what to say about that, but at least it you got a good laugh out of it.