Thursday, April 26, 2007

Half Conversations


Me: No, in fact, I don’t know why.
Me: I think you are mistaken.
Me: Yes, I know that, but what you said isn’t accurate.
Me: Yes, I am, actually. Well, used to be. Criminal defense. Now I teach it.
Me: The sign back there reads, “lights,” trooper. It failed to specify which ones. Parking lights are lights, too, just like headlights. My parking lights were on.
Me: I agree, but it is not required.
Me: It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. The sun is bright. The sky is blue.
Me: Thank you for the warning, trooper. I’ll consider putting on my headlights next time through the construction zone.
Me: Yes, sir, you have a nice day, too.


Me: We’re twins.
Me: Yes, very different.
Me: Thirteen years. It was a very long labor.
Me: Yeah, a record of some sort I’m sure.
Me: She takes after her mom; me after my dad.
Me: No, totally different parents.
Me: Yes, a very strange labor, too, I guess.
Me: No, I don’t see how our DNA could be similar at all.
Me: Yes, I told you we were.
Me: Go ahead, hit her. I feel her pain. Watch the grimace on my face.
Me: Of course she hit you back! You some kind of idjit?
Me: No, my grimace had nothing to do with where you hit her. It was purely where she hit you.
Me: Yes, I do feel her pain. I apparently feel yours, too.
Me: No, we are not twins. You and me look nothing alike.


Me: Yes, of course I remember. How are you? Nice to see you again. (Not a clue. Who the fuck is this? Doesn’t even look like somebody I would ever talk to … think think, think)
Me: Oh, not much. You know, work takes up almost all of my time.
Me: Yes, I am still there. (This doofus knows where I work? Oh shit. Still blank.) You still working (pretend to see someone across the room to stretch out the sentence …) for (c’mon, pal fill in the blank) … yes, Sampson. How’s business? (Now we’re getting somewhere. The guy’s a sales rep, should’ve known. Smells like one.)
Me: That’s great.
Me: What’s that? (Did he say what I think he said?)
Me: Andrew. Yes, he’s doing very well. (He knows my son by name? Is this some fucking stalker?)
Me: (He’s wearing a wedding ring. Let’s go for it …) So, how’s you wife these days? She able to make the trip?
Me: Yes, never fully recovered. I’m sorry to hear that. I remember … (let voice trail off so he can fill the gap. His wife is apparently sick and he’s wearing it for the world to see. Found the button. Cakewalk now.)
Me: Yes. (Is he … is his bottom lip quivering?)
Me: I’m sorry you have to deal with that. (WTF am I doing here?)
Me: Yes. (It’s a fucking hip replacement for wearing high heels her entire life for God’s sakes. Did she have an episiotomy or something? Forty hours of labor? Get sown up for an hour after being torn to High Heaven?)
Me: Mmmm, sounds just stressful, yes. (I am so outta here.)
Me: Yes, I understand. Say, have you met Bob? Hey, Bob, I’d like you to meet someone. His wife had the same procedure you did. Bob, this is … (I am going to pay for this later. There is a special place in Hell for people like me …)


Me: No, you can’t, but thank you for asking.
Me: No, thank you.
Me: Nope, appreciate it.
Me: I’ll find you if I need you.
Me: Pal, you on commission here? Trust me, I’ll find you.
Me: Go away.
Me: I’m serious. Leave me the fuck alone.
Me: Holy shit! You again?
Me: Don’t fucking touch me, buddy, not even to get my attention.
Me: That’s it. Go time. I said don’t … fucking … touch … me.
Me: He was harassing me, Officer. C’mon. He asked for it. Go look at the tapes.


Me: Can I be honest with you? I haven’t a clue who you are nor do I care. You do not look like someone I would give a rat’s ass about, and I just want to be left alone. I come here to drink. Maybe get so drunk I’ll let some girl-gone-pro blow me under the bar. If I wanted a social life, I’d get a MySpace account.
Me: Yeah, you, too, asshole.

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