TURKEY WHILE DRESSING

I woke up and stared at the ceiling.  I did not know where I was or what day it was.  My head was light and felt like it had been spinning endlessly.  I was extremely disoriented and felt very unsure of myself.  I looked under the sheets of the bed and saw I only had on a pair of underwear.  On my job, I sleep in many beds in many different cities, but I don't usually wake up feeling quite so strange or concerned.  What happened last night?

Karen, my ex-girlfriend from high school days, came into the room.  She was bustling around quickly, and did not appear to be in a good humor.  "Good morning, beautiful," I said to her.

"Oh, really?  Is that all you've got to say for yourself?"

I sat up quickly, and my head began to spin again.  "Wait, what's the matter?"

She shook her head and continued hurrying around the room, picking things up and trying to make it tidy.  The room was a huge mess.  Something was obviously bothering her, because we normally get along great.  "You need to get up and get ready."

"What is going on?" I asked.  She simply kept on moving, as if doing so would avoid further questions or conversation.  "Hello?  Karen?  You there?"

"Shut up, OK?"

"Hey--"

"Do you even remember yesterday?  Let me refresh your memory.  It was Thanksgiving, and you came to spend it with me."

"Today is the day after Thanksgiving?"

"Wow, how did you figure that out?  You had a bad headache, so I gave you one of my pain pills, and you got totally crazy."

"Prescription pain pills?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Was I drinking?"

"Just wine, don't you remember?"

I hung my head.  "No, not a thing.  Pills and wine are not a good mix for me.  In fact, extremely bad.  What did I do?"

"Not so much what you did as what you said."  With that, she marched out of the room.  I had to look around to find the various pieces of my clothes.  I loved this girl more than any girl in the world, how could I have so alienated her?  What was going on with me?  A few minutes later, she came back in and laid down a plate with a sandwich on it.  "You never ate your meal yesterday.  There's a turkey sandwich, eat it while you're dressing."

"Why are we in such a hurry for me to leave?"

"WE are not, I am.  I have to fly back to Indy.  Cheryl is very sick and she needs me."

"Cheryl?"  I sighed.  Cheryl was Karen's ex-lover, and I had trouble dealing with the lesbian issue.

Karen pointed her finger at me and her bottom lip quivered.  "Don't start this again.  This is how it all began last night.  You started getting all jealous, then announced how deeply in love with me you were, and how you want to marry me and spend the rest of your life with me."

I dressed slowly and listened to her, feeling sheepish that I had said so much and had no memory of it.  "What else did I say?"

"That I was the love of your life, the stars in the night sky, all this poetic crap.  You just really went way, way overboard."

"Did I?"

She snorted, not happily.  "Yeah, you did."

"Anything else worth mentioning?"

"You threw stuff all over the room.  And you shared all your fantasies about me, in lurid detail."

"I went too far?" I asked.

"It was...  it's just that...  Bill, it was overwhelming.  I expected to have a nice, quite little Thanksgiving, just the two of us.  This was my first one alone without Cheryl, so..."  She came and sat down on the bed next to me as I pulled on my socks.  "You freaked me out a little bit."

"Just a little?"

"Maybe more than a little.  Come on, get ready, I need to catch a flight in just under two hours."

"I can take you to the airport."

"No.  I mean thank you, that's very sweet, but I need some time alone to process all of this."  I had put on my shoes and was picking up my wallet and cell phone.  She grabbed a few tissues from the night stand and wrapped the turkey sandwich in them.  "For the road."

I accepted it gratefully.  Then I walked to the front door with her close behind.  As I was walking out, I turned and said,  "Karen, I am so, so sorry about all of this.  Whatever I said or did, it wasn't me.  I should have warned you not to feed me pills and alcohol."

"I didn't shove them down your throat."

I nodded and smiled.  "I wasn't swinging from the chandelier, was I?"

This made her laugh.  "No, nothing like that.  It was just stuff you said."  She grabbed me and kissed me on the cheek.  "Come back soon, we'll talk."

"I love you, kid."

A tear rolled down her cheek.  "Me too you."

TRICK MY TREAT

Only a few weeks ago we were collectively celebrating Halloween.  I was driving as usual on that special day, and had just dropped off a car near Baltimore.  And I got a frantic call from sweet old Mrs. Sherman, who said she needed me to pick up her car as soon as possible.  I've driven her car from the north down to Florida and then back up for several years, but word usually comes from my boss Riff.  I tried and tried to call him, but no luck.  So I made my way up to her house via commuter trains and buses.

When I arrived at her house, she opened the door to greet me.  She looked a little bit surprised to see me, and said,  "Well hello, Bill, this is an unexpected pleasure.  Please do come in."

As soon as I walked in the door I could smell the strong odor of gas.  "Mrs. Sherman, do you smell gas?"

"I'm 94 years old now, sometimes I don't fully digest and break wind.  I took my Beano.  Or maybe, yes, it must be the oven, I am cooking a big batch of...   now wait a minute.  What am I cooking?"

I hurried over to the oven and could see it was set on 450 degrees.  I opened it and the smell of the gas was much more profound.  I quickly turned the oven off, and then looked to find how to turn the gas off.  "Your pilot light went out, Mrs. Sherman."

"The lights are going out?"  She scurried over to a drawer and pulled out a large box of matches.  "Let me just light a few candles while we can still see."

I quickly took the matches from her.  "No ma'am, you don't to be lighting any matches right now."

"Well, OK, but its going to get very dark in here when the lights go out.  By the way, Happy Thanksgiving to you!"

"Not quite yet, today is Halloween.  In a few more weeks it will be Thanksgiving."

She looked perplexed.  "Are you sure about that?"

"Very sure."

"Well then, I guess we better get ready for the trick or treaters.  I don't have candy, I guess I can bake some cookies.  Or rice crispy treats.  What do you like, Bill?  A chocolate cake?  Or a cherry pie?"

I smiled at her.  "I like them all, but I don't think we should be baking right now.  We need to get some windows opened."  I went around the kitchen and living room opening windows.

"Don't you think its awfully cold to be letting the night air in?" she asked.

"We have to get the gas fumes out of here."

"Gas fumes?" she said with wonder.  "Oh, I filled up the tank of my car with gas, so it's all ready for you to drive to Florida."

I nodded.  "Uh, yes, but do you realize that I just drove it up from Florida a little over a month ago?"

She rubbed her chin.  "I see.  Well then there must be some mistake, it's too soon for you to take it back down there.  What made you think I was ready to move it?"

"Your phone call."

She hurried for the front door.  "There's the doorbell, our first trick or treaters are here."  But there was no doorbell, and when she opened the door she found an empty porch.  "Now where did they go?  Do you think they are pulling a prank on me?"

"Perhaps so," I offered.

"Bill, I am so glad you showed up.  I get so lonely here sometimes, its so good to see a friendly face."

"Happy to see you too, Mrs. Sherman."

The door from the garage into the house opened, and Mrs. Sherman's daughter Regina came rushing in.  "Mother, are you OK?" she asked.  Then she saw me.  "Bill Thomas, what are you doing here?"

"He came to surprise me," said Mrs. Sherman.

Regina shook her head.  "I don't understand."  She sniffed at the air.  "Do I smell gas?"

I held my hands up as I explained.  "Your mother called to ask me to come pick up her car."

"What?  No, no, it's not --  Oh Mother, what have you been up to?"

"I smelled the gas when I got here, and turned the oven off.  The pilot light had gone out."

"I was baking some... some... something delicious!" said Mrs. Sherman with pride.  She winked at me.

"The windows are open, I'm trying to clear out the fumes."

Regina walked over to me.  "Thank you so much for looking out for my Mother.  You are a very sweet man."

"No problem, ma'am.  All in a day's work."

We talked a bit longer, and then Regina called a taxi to come pick me up and take me back to the train station.  As I rode away from the house, I saw ghosts and goblins walking down the street carrying bags to collect candy.  And I felt good inside knowing that Mrs. Sherman would be alright.

PANTS ON FIRE

I was talking to my miserable boss Riff as I approached my delivery address in South Bend, Indiana.  "Why are you always running late, you little pissant?"

"Riff, I'm three hours ahead of the deadline you gave me.  I drove hard to make it on time.  And I just had the car washed and waxed as you instructed."

"Well, you are in for a treat.  This lady sounds like a real piece of work.  Enjoy yourself.  And remember, do not accept a ride from her.  Its her company's rule."

"I already have my exit transportation all arranged."

"You'd better!"

"I do."  I hung up as I pulled into the driveway of Mrs. Edmonds.  She came rushing out of the house.

"Are you Bill?" she asked frantically.

I smiled at her as I climbed out of the car.  "Yes ma'am, Bill Thomas at your service."

"I was beginning to worry if you'd ever make it.  Punctuality is a lost art, I suppose.  What kind of car would you call this?"

I looked at the car.  "I'd call it a Chevy Malibu."

She shook her head.  "Oh gee, I was sort of hoping for a Cadillac."

I shrugged.  "Sorry, this is the car your company wanted me to deliver."

"Now did you wash the car?"

"Yes."

"That's not true, now is it?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"Can you prove the car was washed?  Do you have a receipt?"

"Yes, its right here."  I reached into my pocket, trying to remain calm and cordial.  I do not much enjoy being accused of lying.

Mrs. Edmonds snatched the receipt from me and looked it over.  "Oh no, this is from the car wash across town.  I would have preferred you use the car wash about a mile from here.  I know the people there."

"I had no idea."

"No?  Well I suppose that rings true.  Now how does the car run?"

"Perfect.  I drove it here from New Orleans, and didn't have any problems."

"Fibber."

"Excuse me?"

"You just fibbed to me, that's quite obvious.  This is a used car, so its not perfect."

"OK, poor choice of words on my part.  What I meant to say was that its in very good shape for a used car.  I can promise you that it is my job to tell you if I find anything wrong with the car."

She eyed me sideways.  "Are you sure?"

"Yes, very sure."

"Did I get a fuel card, along with current registration and insurance?"

"You bet, its all in the glovebox."

"Prove it!" she said, pointing at me.  "Because that sounds like a tall tale to me."

"Mrs. Edmonds, is there some reason you doubt me?"

"You just sound like you're full of BS to me."

"Really sorry that you feel that way, but I'm being 100% honest with you."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"I wish you would."

She walked around the car inspecting it with much more intensity than most customers do.  And of course, she had every right to do so.  I waited patiently for ten minutes.  "I do not like this car one bit.  But I suppose I have no choice but to accept it, do I?"

"I think you're going to like it."

"And I think you're wrong.  Now where do I sign?"  I handed her the paperwork and a pen, and pointed to the line with the X next to it.  She waved the pen in the air several times before she put it down on the paper and signed her name.  "Now I know you're going to need a ride, and I'm going to take you where you need to go, although I really don't want to."

"You don't have to."

"Well as I said, I don't want to. I'd rather not.  But I'll do it if I have to."

"Thank you kindly, but there's no need.  I have a ride all arranged."

"You do?"  She came over close to me and began sniffing around me.  "Do you smell smoke?"

"No," I said.

"I think your pants are on fire."

"My pants?"

"Liar, liar.  You don't have a ride arranged, do you?""

"I'm telling you the truth."

"OK, Mr. Truth Teller, if you are so honest then explain how you're getting out of here."

"I'm renting a car from Avis.  The agent at Avis said he'd come and pick me up."

"That's a big whopper.  Don't insult my intelligence.  I would appreciate it if you'd leave my property immediately, liars are not welcome here.  I will be reporting you to your company for this."

So I gave her a copy of the paperwork and started walking up the street to the major intersection where Avis had agreed to pick me up.  And that's the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  Honestly.

PEEK-A-BOO

I got word that my bank account at a certain nationwide chain was changing my absolutely Free checking account to a $1500 minimum balance account.  They informed me that they had already subtracted the first monthly service fee, with many more to come.  So I chose to find a branch and close the account, because I never seem to have as much as $1500 ahead.

As I passed through East St. Louis, I got off the highway where Mapquest told me I could find the nearest branch.  It was in a very economically depressed neighborhood, in the lobby of a destitute grocery store.  I went in and stood in line, with five people between me and the head of the line.  First in line was a family:  a father who had lost his belt (I assume, because his pants were drooping to his knees and his underwear was in full view); a mother chewing gum and popping bubbles;  a restless girl of 5 or 6;  and a toddler in a stroller wailing and crying to beat the band.

I felt sorry for the small crying girl and smiled at her.  About that time, the father said to the mother,  "You better tell that little bitch to shut the hell up right now."

The mother looked down at the crying girl.  "You hear that bitch?  He says you best shut your mouth.  Don't make me tell you again."

But the crying continued, perhaps even louder now.  When the little girl looked back my way, I covered my eyes with my hand, then pulled it back quickly revealing my eyes.  A simple game of peek-a-boo, like I used to play with my friends' kids.  The girl stopped crying immediately, as she was caught off guard by me being silly.  I continued to do this, unnoticed by anyone but the little tyke, and she seemed fascinated.  Her mouth formed into a big "O" and she just stared and stared.  I added little flourishes to up the ante, and the more I did it, the more she liked it.

Before long, her older sister noticed me also, and she began to smile.  About this time, the younger girl began to giggle very softly.  And as I continued, her laughter grew infectious, and her older sis joined in.  They just thought this goofy older guy was the funniest thing they had seen all day.  They giggled and chuckled and gurgled, and I was glad I could make them happier.  Better a happy child than a screaming child.

About that time, the mother looked down at the tiny girl to see what she was laughing about.  She followed the little girl's eyeline until she saw me, and took a moment to watch what I was doing.  And then she spoke to me rather forcefully.  "Hey!  Stop making them laugh.  We don't like laughter."

I was both embarrassed and a bit confused.  But I did stop, immediately, and looked off in the other direction.  I stayed in line for 20 more minutes, and after I closed the account I was back into my car and on my way.  In a way, I felt sort of sad as I drove away.  I maintain that there is too much bad stuff in the world, and that we can use all the smiles and laughter we can get.  Guess not everyone agrees with that.

GIVE A DOG A BONE

I was driving down the highway in the Hill Country of Texas, and it seemed more than appropriate to be listening to George Strait singing SOMEWHERE DOWN IN TEXAS.  I was on my way to see Tom and Jenny at their ranch full of dogs, and I knew that the welcome mat would be out.  The last time I was there had been at Christmas, when they had just adopted the three little girls.

When I drove up to their house, I saw the girls playing out in the yard with the dogs.  Normally Jenny would rush out to greet me, but for the first time this didn't happen.  I felt concerned, but figured she must be busy inside.  I got out and said hello to the girls, and then went inside to find Jenny in the middle of a heated conversation on the phone.

"I'm doing the best I can out here!" she shouted.  "I have 40 dogs here right now, and I feed them and provide for them and do my very best to find homes for them.  I really don't appreciate you saying crap like that about me, and if you're going to, how about saying it to my face instead of posting it on Facebook.  And one more thing--"  Jenny stopped mid-sentence, and just stared at the phone in disbelief.  "I can't believe it.  She hung up on me!"

"Who did?"

"This dumb bitch named Heidi.  I had someone go back on a contract I had for an adopted dog, and she posted on Facebook that I wasn't doing a good enough job and that I should go and physically check out a home before I give a dog away."

"What?"

She let out a sigh.  "I'm sorry, Bill, where are my manners.  Welcome home."  She threw her arms around me and squeezed tight.  "You're a sight for sore eyes.  I needed a good friend right about now."

"And you've got one.  Jenny, don't listen to that stupid woman, she obviously doesn't know what she's talking about.  You do so much for these dogs, you go way above and beyond.  Talk about pay it forward.  I seriously doubt there is anyone in the world that takes care of dogs or loves dogs as much as you."

"I don't know about all that.  Come here, I want to show you something."  She led me over to her computer, and turned the screen for me to see.  I was horrified by the sight of a dog with a huge fish hook in its snout.  "There are insane people using dogs as live bait to catch big fish."

"What?"

"It's true!  This is absolutely unacceptable behavior and should be considered heinous cruelty to animals. I can't believe we should have to tell someone this is wrong."

"Holy crap."

"Can you even imagine the fear these poor animals must be in the last minutes of their lives."  Tears welled up in her eyes.  "No living being deserves to be treated and used this way!  Dammit!"  She plopped down in her chair, looking defeated.  "Sometimes I feel like with all I do, I am barely making a dent."

I gently rubbed her shoulders.  "Nonsense, you are wonderful.  You do so much good, I can't even begin to tell you.  The love you show, the sacrifices you make.  Listen, I brought beer and cigarettes and some thick steaks.  And a big bag of dog biscuits for the pooches.  I'm going to make you dinner and cheer you up.  Where's Tom?"

"He's over at the neighbor's again, that bastard is causing us trouble every single day.  Running customers off, building over our property line.  I think Tom may shoot him before long."

"Let's hope not," I said.  She got up and led me outside so we could check on the dogs and the kids.  I had to get the stuff I brought out of the car anyway.

Jenny stopped and did a head count.  "We have some new dogs.  That one is John Wayne, and that one over there is Mr. Tom Hanks.  The little one next to him is his brother Jim Hanks."

"You like naming them after movie actors, don't you?"

"Yep."  She smiled, then looked a bit worried.  "Where's Charlie?"

"Who?"

"Charlie McCarthy, he's a newcomer, a beagle.  You'll like him."

Right about then, Tom came sauntering up.  "Bill-doggie!" he yelled when he saw me.  "Come here, bro."  He grabbed me and hugged me tight.  "How's my brother from another mother?"

"Great Tom, how are you?"

"Ready for a beer."

"I brought a 12 pack."

He grinned.  "One of the things I love about you the most.  Hey, I was just talking to our asshole neighbor.  I think he makes his goal in life to harrass us."

Jenny interrupted.  "Tom, where is Charlie?"

"I think I saw him in the woods when I was headed over to talk to Mr. Asshole Watson."

"He didn't go over there, did he?"  Just as Jenny completed her sentence, we heard a dog yelp and cry from distance.  "That's Charlie!" she cried, and ran into the house.

"Where's she going?" I asked.

Tom shook his head, and in a flash Jenny came back out of the house carrying Tom's shotgun.  She ran past us at almost superhuman speed, and we ran after her.  About one minute later, we were at their property line, and Charlie was laying on the ground bleeding.  Their neighbor Watson was standing over the dog with a weed wacker, and Jenny took all her momentum from running and used the shotgun like a battering ram to knock Watson on his butt.  "What'd you do to my dog?"

Watson was on the ground, stunned but stubborn.  "He came onto my property."

Jenny was incredulous.  "He came onto your property?  Oh my God!"

"I had to teach him a lesson!"

"Did you?  Well I guess now I'll have to teach you one, too."  She pumped the shotgun and took aim.  In the blink of an eye, Tom disarmed her.  He swooped in and pulled the gun out of her hands, as Watson pulled himself to his feet.  Jenny was in such a fierce state of protective aggressiveness that she was caught off guard by Tom's actions.  She was a force to be reckoned with.  Talk about irrepressible and irascible!  When Watson was on his feet again, she shook her head no and hit him like a linebacker, knocking him onto the ground once more.  "You are so lucky that I have to tend to Charlie's wounds, but trust me you son of a bitch, this isn't over."  She picked up Charlie gently then began to run back for the house.

Watson got to his feet again.  "You need to put those dogs and that wife of yours on a leash, and--"

Tom interrupted, leaning menacingly into Watson so that their faces were just about touching.  "Shut your mouth!  You don't get to talk right now.  I can promise you that if this happens again, my wife won't be coming over here.  Because I'll be over here first and kill you myself.  Keep that in mind, you dirty son of a bitch!"

I followed Tom back home, and he dealt with the little girls to distract them so they wouldn't be frightened.  I went inside and did my best to assist Jenny in patching up Charlie.  Seems like Watson had cut the dog with his weed wacker.  When she got done, we all sat outside and had a beer.

"He's gonna be OK," Jenny told us.

"Yes, but are you OK?" I asked.

Tom chuckled.  "Damn, girlfriend, you were on fire."

"There's no excuse for what he did, no one should hurt a dog," she said

I nodded.  "You said earlier that someone accused you of not doing a good enough job.  What a load of crap.  Dogs are man's best friend, but no dog in the world could have a better friend or protector than Jenny."

"Amen," said Tom, and he took a long swig of beer.

NEAR DEATH

I had been working with Andy, the crazed paranoid driver, for a few weeks now shuttling cars from Florida to Texas and back.  Basically, I was serving as "chase" driver to Andy, following him one way then picking him up and driving him back for another pick up.  I did not enjoy his company one little bit, but the money was good so I couldn't say no.

He had just delivered a cargo van to Waco, Texas.  I was waiting for him in a minivan, which Riff had assigned to follow him.  He pulled into the parking lot where I waited driving a large truck, with a trailer attached to the back of it.  Andy got out of the car and swaggered over to me.  "Good morning, puss face."

"What's this?  Aren't you supposed to ride back with me to Ft. Lauderdale?"

"Change of plans, man.  I got this truck and trailer to take, so you just follow me back."

"Wait a second, did Riff assign this?"

"No idiot, I got the order from another company.  We don't tell Riff about it, right?  Right?!"

"What do you think you're up to, Andy?"

"Shut up and do as your told.  And don't you dare bring my Aunt Bessie into it."  He poked his finger into my ribs.  "You know it was funny, and you know just what I'm talking about."

"It wasn't funny at all."

He poked me again.  "You have to admit, it was a little funny."

I stared at him with disgust.  "Andy, you mixed extra strength laxative in my drink.  I crapped my pants, then couldn't get far from a toilet all day."

He bent over and brayed with laughter.  "Hilarious!"

"No, it's a rotten thing to do to someone.  Especially someone like me who has digestive issues."

"Come on, don't be a prick, it was pretty funny."  He began to poke me in the ribs once again, but this time I grabbed his wrist and twisted it.  Then I spun him around, pinned his arm to his back, and slammed him face first into the side of the trailer.  "Hey man, be cool!"

I was trying to control my temper and spoke softly.  "I am very cool right now."

"No you're not, you're acting like a maniac."

I let him go and then pointed my finger in his face.  "Do not touch me again.  Got it?"  I turned on my heel and headed for the minivan.

"OK Sally, see if you are man enough to keep up with me.  I was up all night drinking, and I've had five cups of coffee and four of those 5 hour alert shots.  I am wired for sound, and don't you forget it."

I began to follow Andy as he took the back roads from Waco to Houston.  Once there, he got on I-10 east and we were headed for Florida.  I was listening to music and trying to relax, but was still tense over what he had done.  I tried to stay clear of this guy, but circumstances brought us together more often than I cared for.  He is so volatile and unpredictable.  And he brought out a side of me that I didn't like, a perfect example being me throwing him against the trailer.  That's not me, that is not the way I behave.  But he pushes me so far that I feel something akin to hatred for the guy.  He makes me nuts.

Suddenly, I saw the trailer fishtail.  Then the truck Andy was driving began to swerve.  Both the truck and the trailer were swerving, and each fishtail move made a wider arc.  I stared in amazement, wondering what this lunatic driver had done to cause the wild swinging to begin.  And then, the truck flipped, followed closely by the trailer.  It rolled several times before coming to a stop on its side, and I pulled off to the shoulder and quickly ran for the truck.

As I neared it, I could clearly see that Andy was unconscious inside the cab of the truck.  He had what appeared to be a burning joint hanging from his lips.  I could smell gasoline, and knew that disaster was just a whisper away.  I tried very hard to open the door, but it was jammed shut.  So I kicked the window until it broke, and then cleared away the glass so I could reach in.  By this time, a fire had started, and I was feeling frantic about getting him out and moving as far away as possible.

It was a difficult task, but I was able to pull him free of the burning truck.  That's when I first noticed that his head was bleeding profusely.  A woman who had pulled over behind me ran up with her cell phone to her ear.  "I'm calling 911," she said.

"Thanks, but I have to get him right to a hospital or I think he might not make it."

"There's one fairly near here.  Go down three exits, get off, turn right, and go about five miles."

"Thanks, thanks a lot," I told her.  I yelled out my name and my cell phone number as I carried Andy to the minivan.  The woman entered my cell phone into her own, so she could contact me or give it to the authorities who would be there soon.

I know that conventional wisdom would be to let the ambulance come and get Andy and rush him to the hospital.  But as a driving fool, I can promise you that I went faster and more skillfully than any ambulance ever could.  I was determined to save his life if at all possible.  Though there was absolutely nothing about this guy that I liked.  Not even remotely.

Just over ten minutes later, I pulled up to the Emergency Room entrance and carried Andy inside.  I had to wait five hours, during which time the police called me and then showed up at the hospital.  Soon after I finished my report with the police officers, the Dr. came out to tell me that Andy would survive, but he was going to need a lot of rest and rehab.  "Toxicology told us that he was as high as a kite," explained the Doc.  "That may be what saved him."

"Really?"

"He was extremely relaxed, so he didn't tense up on impact.  One thing is for sure, though:  if you hadn't brought him right over, he never would have survived.  He owes you his life."

Those were words I had never heard before.  Someone owes me their life.  But why did it have to be Andy?  I am quite certain that he won't be the least bit grateful, and that as soon as he fully recovers he'll be trying to slip me some more laxative, or worse.

FLIRTING IN A DINER

I was sitting in the Diner watching a young waitress move about.  I don’t know how young she was, but I found myself hoping she wasn’t too young for me.  She had been flirting with me, no doubt about it, and I thought she was very attractive.  I kept on finding new things to order just so I could stay at my table and appreciate her.  She walked back over to me carrying a coffee pot.  “More coffee?” she asked.

“I don’t want to get too wired.”

“Right, all that energy and nothing to do with it.  Or is there?”

“You get right to the point,” I said.

“Life is too short.  You’re cute, I’m hot, why not?”

“How old are you, anyway?”

“Does it really matter?” she wanted to know.`

“My guess would be late 20’s, and even that might be too young for me.”

“Why?  Come on, live a little.”

I sighed.  “How old?”

“I turned 21 last Tuesday, so I’m legal.”

“Check please.  I’m not a cradle robber.”

“Even if I promised to make all of your most erotic fantasies come true?”

I paused, then said,  “I’m flattered that you’d even consider me, but… no.”

This beautiful girl shrugged and walked away.  I felt a hand swipe across the back of my head, and heard a familiar voice say,  “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing, Mister Bill?”

I smiled warmly and turned to see Karen standing behind me.  The love of my life.  My soulmate.  My gay ex-girlfriend.  “Hi, Karen.”

She seemed stern.  “Answer the question.  Why did you come to my Café to hit on an innocent young waitress, way too young for you old man?”

“I thought I was in a Diner.”

“It’s a Café, and don’t try to change the subject.”  She had sneaked up on me, and now she came around to sit across the table from me.  “What’s up with you?”

“I came to see you, and you weren’t here.”

“So you decided to hit on my staff?”

“Don’t be mad.  I came to make peace.  I didn’t like how we left things last time I was here.”

Her face softened, and the smile that separated her lips was pure sunshine.  “I felt bad, too.  I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I sure didn’t mean to send you away without a meal.”

“It was my fault.”

“It was both of our fault, and you know it.  I can take some of the blame, too.”

“I was a jerk.”

“That’s enough, that’s in the past and the subject is closed.  Agreed?”

“Yes ma’am.  I will learn to be more understanding and tolerant of Cheryl.”

“There is no more Cheryl.”

“What?  Since when?”

“She’s gone, let’s just leave it at that for now.  We might discuss it more later.  Like over dinner tonight.”

“Just you and me?”

“Ask me out on a date, silly man.”

I felt a tingling sensation.  “Karen, will you go out with me tonight?”

She looked up at the ceiling as if she were thinking it over, then laughed and said,  “Yes, but you have to get me home by midnight.”

I felt so warm and good all over.  “I am really glad you’re not mad at me anymore.”

She reached across the table and took my hands.  “Listen here, you.  I love you, and I always will.  You are very special to me.”

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

She shook her head.  “One step at a time.  Dinner tonight, OK?  But one thing I know for sure is that I want you to be a bigger part of my life.  I need you, Bill.”  She squeezed my hands in hers.

I swallowed hard.  “I need you too, Karen.”