I got asked out a couple of weeks ago and I was a little excited until I remembered how all the other dates went. I must have short term memory loss because about every two months I forget and accept a date with some yutz that saw me in the elevator and thought I was cute (by the way, cute is man code word for “you got big boobs”).
Anyway, the last date I went out on was a disaster. After about two hours of sheer boredom my date said “ I have a present for you.” I thought, “ Ok, now were talking!” Anyone who knows me knows a gift is the way to my heart or at least the place where my heart should be. He jumped up and ran down into the basement. I thought, “What kind of gift could be in his basement?” It was about then that my brain began to scream “The gift is a hatchet to the head!” Great! He is going to kill me and bury me in his back yard (did I forget to mention that he doesn’t drive, so my corpse wouldn’t have gotten far) and I was going to have to spend the rest of eternity in CLAYMONT, DELAWARE… fabulous, just fabulous.
By the time he emerged from the basement I had failed to unlatch the backdoor, and was in the process of grabbing the kitchen chair to throw through the window. I noticed, as he approached me, that he didn’t have a hatchet in his hand, he had a small rock… I was very relieved, because my head is too hard to cave in with a little rock like that.
He said, “It’s petrified wood! I have tons of it down the basement.” It was right about then, as I wondered if the hatchet to the head may not have been a better gift, that I realized that maybe those old maids with 70 cats are right … But, I still have something they don’t; a piece of petrified wood.
Next week: How I killed the asshole in the cubbyhole next to me, because he wouldn’t stop talking to me… SHUT UP; SHUT UP…SHUT UPPPPPPPP!
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