I was asked to write another article chronicling the highlights of my week… so I take it the first one wasn’t a complete failure and at least 10 people or so read it. This week I actually tried to pay very close attention to everything that was going on, trying to sort out what would be article material. I hope most weeks aren’t quite this boring. If only I had one more day so I could talk about going to see Wolverine… because I am sure I could go on for ages about what I am sure is going to be a pile.
Ain’t Love Grand
My ladyfriend has a job at Starbucks, and on occasion I will hang out down there and mooch free drinks for several hours. While this has put a major hurting on their supply of lemonade, it has opened up several horrifying experiences for me. Whether it was the day that I counted 17 teenagers/old women (dressing hip in the hopes that someone wouldn’t realize they are 80) wearing those fucking fur boots, or the time an overweight retarded individual was a mere foot away from my face and “dancing” to whatever shitty song was playing, I have seen some times at that store. Most of the people I have encountered are nothing short of insane, such as the lady who insisted that I keep living in Michigan because one day it will be the only state that has water. Some are pretty cool though, like a fellow I have talked to on a few occasions. Even though he has told me a lot about his childhood, college days, 20′s, 30′s, 40′s, 50′s, and 60′s, I still consider him a stranger. I mean we’re never going to go hang out at the bar or sit around the television and pull for whatever Michigan team isn’t a complete failure (aside from hockey).
I’m not completely sure if he views me as a stranger too. I’m unsure of this because of a conversation we shared earlier in the week. It was that kind of conversation you could never prepare yourself for or really predict you would get into over the course of the day. Some topics just seem like safe topics around strangers in that you know you won’t be discussing them. Someone probably isn’t going to want to talk about religion with a person they don’t know. A man probably isn’t going to start a talk about their family problems with a stranger. Someone isn’t going to just openly discuss their wife and her horrific shitting problems with a total and complete stranger either.
Yes…well two out of three of those topics are still sacred.
Normally I sit in the far corner on my laptop with headphones on. I’m not listening to anything, but it usually keeps people from thinking it is okay to talk to me and if someone does talk to me I can just act like I don’t hear them. This guy does not subscribe to this logic. Honestly, I think I am dealing with either a true social rebel or a man who is insane yet rich enough to just be labeled “a tiny bit eccentric.” He starts to walk up to me, so I just take my headphones off. I do like to speak with him on occasion because he is a really interesting guy for the most part and, until he starts talking about politics and local issues, I am talking back and not just nodding my head and making surprised noises. He sits down and I can immediately see that he is breathing a bit heavy. I don’t question it, I figure he will tell me why soon enough.
He begins to tell me why.
Apparently he literally ran out of his home just a few minutes prior to arriving. I know from previous conversations that he has knee, shoulder, hip, and other assorted aches and pains… so I know if he was running then it was for a good reason. So I ask if everything is okay, as he still seems genuinely flustered and has an almost shell-shocked look to him. He leans in close (which I’m surprised he decided to do that much) and begins to tell me about his day. Woke up too early, helping his daughter find a car, wife had uncontrollable shits and was crying so he ran out of the house… you know, the usual. The thing was, he spoke about it like it was just another every-day event that didn’t really need to be discussed further. In fact, if my jaw wouldn’t have dropped upon hearing it, I don’t think he would have said anything else about it. But since he could see that I was a bit confused, shocked, and trying very hard not to erupt into a fit of laughter that would stay with me for the rest of my days, he went on to explain.
It seems his wife has been ill for a few days. She was feeling sick to her stomach the night before, and was up in the middle of the night vomiting. After getting very little sleep, my friend woke up this morning to see his wife pretty much in the same condition. Apparently an hour or so after waking up, his wife finally decided to try to get out of bed. She immediately started clutching her stomach and doubling over in pain. This was a sign of things to immediately come, as just a few minutes later… well I think my friend said it all when he stated:
“It started coming out of both ends.”
When It Starts Coming Out of Both Ends
Apparently when faced with his wife vomiting and shitting all over their no-doubt expensive bedroom carpet, this individual figured that the best thing to do was run like hell. He ran out of the house, into his car, and immediately to Starbucks to nurse away his pain on a coffee and newspaper. At this point I didn’t know whether I was dealing with the front-runner for Worst Husband of 2009, or someone who was being completely reasonable. What do you do when your significant other starts ejecting their waste in stereo? Do you stay? If you stay, what do you do? I highly doubt you are going to get close to them, hold them and tell them it will be okay, all the while you feel a warmth running both down your back and over your shins. So you’d either stay in the background or go to another room. If you are in another room, what good are you? Might as well be a mile or two down the road at a local coffee shop sharing the story with someone you’ve known a total of 2 hours at best. I can’t blame the guy, and I also can’t hold in my laughter much longer.
His description of his wife didn’t help. Apparently she is a very small and thin woman, and very proud. This set off explosions of laughter in my mind. The thought of this frail woman, doubled over as her pride is leaving her almost as quickly as the poo and vomit she is now showering in. She probably used to think she was better than everyone else, but the mud-bath her feet are in are telling her a different story now.
So I laugh. He laughs too. We both sit there and laugh about his wife, who may or may not at this point in time be dead. I’ve heard that there are some things you feel that you can only tell a stranger… and I guess your spouse having spasms of violent waste-removal via the mouth and anus is one of those.
She did call him after awhile, and I could hear the crying over the phone. Reluctantly he finished his drink and shuffled out the door, informing me that he was probably going to spend the day digging the carpet-shampooer out of the closet… so she could clean it up later that day.
So yeah, maybe he’s back in the Worst Husband of 2009 running.
A Southerner, Billy seems to be the most adult of us all. Especially in that shady, seedy kind of way.
Contact him: firstname.lastname@example.org