" Mr. Grogs! How you doing? I am good, I am good. And how is Deleney this morning, hmmm? Warm and giddy or a bit shitty? That's good, that's good. Yea, I've been waiting for you (kind of) just lazing about. You know how we Americans look at Mondays, recovery time! Yes, yes, it was a good weekend. Went to a couple of boat shows, a Hootie show, you know, the usual. No I didn't get to catch him when was in last month. Really? When did that happen? Oh wow, so I should probably call him the next time I need a helicopter ride ehh? Hahahahaha. Well hey listen, give me a call when you're back around, we'll do lunch. Yes! Ok, I will say hello to Cecilia. Ok, take care Mr. Grogs! Ok, bye bye!"
Mr. Grogs is an old friend who pops in and out. In a certain way, he's a bastard, a poor soul with constant swamp ass. He just doesn't know when to quit; he cuts everyone on line, he passes gas in temples, he wipes his ass with his sleeves, he takes his shoes off at work, he chews gum that he finds blackened and crusted to the streets, he refills his Poland Spring bottle with yellow snow, he picks up dog shit and throws it at babies, he's a god-damned liability.
But somehow, he's always there. When you least need him, he shows up, pink overalls, striped socks, with a gigantic red belly, clear high heels and a long black Gucci coat. Today, he calls me to cancel. Motherfucker. Why do I waste my time on this shit? I sat here and waited for this fat fuck and now he tells me he's off, flying around the Caribbean, sitting in a chopper, clipping his toenails and sipping Mylanta from a straw. Shiftless swine.
The phone rings and I pick up. "Hello? Hey Grogsy, whats going on? Forget something? What's that? Can you pick up Cecilia? Well, to be quite honest, thats my main squeeze, why would you ask me such a question? No, no, I'm not getting mad, its just a...well...a...strange request. Well to be quite honest I'd have no problem with that except that Cecilia is a...well....a she's visiting her parents in Florida. Yes, sorry about that. What? You can swing by Florida? Yea, I don't know exactly where. Yes, yes. I tell you what, why don't you swing back here and we'll go out there together. Yes, and then maybe we'll contact Cecilia along the way. Ok? Sounds good, see you in a bit. Bye."
Motherfucker! This motherfucker! He can come back for some tail, but not moi. I grabbed my briefcase and ran for the elevator. Elevator button, "down"; "ding" as the elevator door slides open; "Excuse me" as I squeeze in; "Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding (etc, etc)" and we finally reach the ground floor (10 people heavier); "Excuse me" as I struggle out the door; Round the corner; "click" through the turnstile; "click-clack-clic-clack-click-clack" until I reach Security; "Oh, here it is!" as I slide my card out; "No, after you!" as the woman in front of me goes through the revolving door; "Whoosh" and I'm outside; "Clink, fuhh" as I light my cigarette and wait for Mr. Grogs standing on the corner, rolling my eyes.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment