My assignment yesterday was to cover this one fire department that was giving a little boy a whole bunch of gifts to lift his spirits after he'd been bitten by a dog, so I'm sitting there with the chief and his crew getting backround on the sitch when I asked the little boy's name. The chief said "so and so." I thought, "Huh. That's DtR's last name, and we're in the area where DtR lived," so I asked what street they live on. The chief said, "such and such," so I asked if the boy's mother's name is Whosit and, well, whaddya know!?? I was like, holy shit, I haven't seen these people since DtR and I broke up 15 years ago, how weird is THIS going to be, right?
Not one bit, oddly enough. The little boy, who's a little doll, went out to talk to the firemen, and I walked up to Whosit and said "Fucking Whosit," and she squealed and was like, "OhmiGOD! How ARE you!?? Blahblahblahblahblah!" And so after the firemen left, she, her husband and I shot the breeze for awhile. Hope y'all are sitting down, because here's the big news: DtR's married again. Got himself a youngin' this time -- she's 23 to his going-to-be-39 -- and, according to Whosit, may have been divorced about an hour before he got remarried again. Also, while she loves her brother, he's a lying sack.
No. Get out. Imagine my sur-prise. (yawn)
So I told her before I left that mark my words, he's going to read my story, and I'm going to have an e-mail sitting in my box by time I get out of bed.
He writes back and tells me that of COURSE he's crazy about her. They'd been dating off and on since February and that they were making engagement plans when ...
wait for it ...
at the end of April, the discovered she was knocked up, so they went to a JP and sealed the deal. (Ooooooooooh! Didn't see that one coming a mile away, didja!?? Snerk.)
But THEN, about a month ago, she was driving along (!) when a deer ran out in front of her (!!) and she swerved to avoid it (!!!) and THE CAR FLIPPED OVER THREE TIMES (!!!!), causing her to badly miscarry, instead of the good kind, apparently. (Fer Chrissake.) But wait! We're not done yet: Friday he has an appointment with a proctologist (!) because he has colon polyps (!!) and is awaiting the results of the colonoscopy (!!!), and, you know, it's real tough waiting to find out whether or not you have CANCER. And he knows he hasn't been a really good friend lately but he'll try harder if I still wanted him to. My response:
What I REALLY wanted to say after I thought about it for a bit was how DARE you use cancer to make me feel sorry for your pathetic ass and that I should saw off your abnormally large dick with a plastic spoon and feed it to you, but I figured my nonchalance would eat at him more.
While this was all going on, I got the house halfway done for Mer's imminent arrival. It'll be trashed by the time she leaves, of course, but it's the thought.