A couple of years ago, I got a call at four in the morning from a friend whose father... we'll call him Schmurt... was elderly, he'd been born when his father was already fifty and my friend... we'll call him Schmadam for the purposes of anonymity... was in his middle twenties.
Beyond that, he had a history of heart problems and, indeed, was known for cleaning his massive collection of firearms while drunk and... had once blown a hole through his hand when his dog jumped on him, while drunkenly cleaning a gun. So when our answering machine's caller ID called out the phone as Schmadam's and my first thought was, of course:
"Uh-oh, Schmurt is dead."
So, that's my first question to him, "is your father okay?"
Schmadam was... very high. Very very high. He laughed at the idea, at my paranoid sleuthing.
Schmurt was fine.
No, Schmadam had called us to tell us that he'd just polished off a bottle of champagne in a Redwood hot tub, along with six hits of ecstasy and two blunts. He'd called us to say that he could finally admit he was bisexual.
Which was great and all, he'd been clearly not-just-into-ladies since he was twelve, he seemed to be the last one to figure this out but... better late than never. Still, it was four o'clock in the morning.
"So your father isn't dead?"
"No!"
"Well, I'm very happy for you and your realization but... it's four in the morning. I'll... call you back in the afternoon."
"OKAY!" he said blissed out like a Hari Krishnae with a coupon for Supercuts, "BYE!"
The next afternoon, my girlfriend called him back.
"Schmadam, are you still high?"
"No, I came down a couple of hours ago."
"Are you... still bi?"
Though not my brother, Schmadam is kinda my Showbiz. You never know when you're gonna hear from that kid and what the story's gonna be when you do. You just hope that the news is good, as such that he can finally admit he likes wang, as opposed to bad, that his father blew his head off cleaning a gun.
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Topic: January 30th, 2007 - "they do a really long Reuben" (Read 7643 times)