A Fairytale Ending for MMM & AFR

Artist’s rendering of their future child

 

Assuming incorrectly we were friends because we shared some chips and Tex-Mex, Androgynous Female Receptionist gave us an invitation to her housewarming party.

When I complained I didn’t want to go, Peter saw the opportunity to impart another life lesson; “Never turn down an invitation.”

Yes, astute advice.  On the other hand, I wanted to avoid Mustached Mortuary Man and was sure he was on the invite list. Ultimately, Peter convinced me to go because there would be beer and we could get day drunk.

It was a sad affair.  The party was held in a chain-linked fenced-in backyard with a handful of people on plastic broken sand chairs. The grass was dead.  MMM was there.  I didn’t want to talk to him, so I jumped at the opportunity to “get the full tour.”

Her roommate gave us the don’t blink, or you’ll miss it viewing of their basement apartment.  There was only one window, about the size of my hand, in the roommate’s bedroom.  “I pay more so I get the window.”

Peter and I nodded that it was a sensible arrangement indeed.

We went outside to enjoy the funeral.

Instead of looking other people in the eye and conversing, the guests made a circle around the dingy red and white Coleman, just looking down at it.  If we are going to keep going with this metaphor, maybe they were mourning the beer inside, because it was skunked.

About a half hour into Sam Adams’ memorial service we realized that MMM and AFR were acting funny.  They were acting like a couple!  Apparently, this had been going on a while.  It was like a fairytale!

He pretended they weren’t hooking up, and she pretended that it was a real relationship.

Dreams do come true!

So do revenge scenarios.  All the strong dark rum at the Puerto Rican party masked any symptoms and the fact I was coming down with a cold.    So when Peter and I shared spit, he caught it as well.  I don’t know if MMM did.  I don’t care.

Peter had the unfair hometown advantage and could go to his parent’s house and get doted on while he recovered.  He got caught though.

Always the smart cookie, Peter’s Mom nonchalantly asked, “So… is Tracey sick too?”

Ha!

Having an awkward moment with his mom served the sick b@stard right for f#cking with me.


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