Friday, June 27, 2014

Reggie Returns

Reggie returned to the library to help out with the landscaping. He gave me a wary wave, and smiled at Carol. But it wasn't long before he came over to talk to me. Ah, bliss.

"How have you been, buddy? Is the hot dog guy still there?"

"Uh, yes. I guess he--"

He galloped off, and returned with a chili cheese dog piled high with carcinogens. He chewed and talked to me while smoking.

"You've got mustard..." I pointed at my ear lobe.

"Thanks. So... mmmg mmgg... what have you been up to?"

I told him about my date. He was very impressed until I told him I didn't make the sex orgy on her.

"Man! The same old Greg not getting any! We got to get you... mmmgg mmmg... laid, son."

"You've got relish..." I pointed at my eyelid.

"My lady has been having me read Conversations with God. Did you know that there's sex in heaven? All the time! And you get to meet all the famous people. Jesus, Abe Lincoln, Muhammad Ali..."

"Ali is still with us."

"I'm so glad (burp) that I believe in Jesus. Unlike you. When are you going to come to Jesus? Don't you want to be remembered?"

"Right. So while you're having a chill convo with Jesus and Napoleon you, what, get a signal that someone is 'remembering' you down on Earth? Awww, my great-great-great-great grandkid is thinking about me. Hold on a second, Jimi Hendrix and Marcel Marceau, my great-great-grand-nephew is fondly recalling me. And then after that you smoke a jay and head off for the local sex orgy with Charles Nelson Reilly?"

"Now you're getting it! So... I'm having a party this weekend. You want to come? My lady has this very fine friend. And she's down for meeting a white guy like you."

"My whiteness is my most attractive quality, I admit. But, no thanks."

"What? Why not?"

"Hey, they're calling for you."

"But why not? Here's my number."

"I'm terrible at parties. I'm so bad at fun. And then there's the whole having to shave my face thing. I can never figure it out."

"Think about it!"

He gave me his number scrawled on a hot-dog wrapper. I assured him I wouldn't be calling him, ever. But if anyone wants to go to a sex orgy with Muhammad Ali and Paul Lynde, hit me up in the comments and I'll give you Reggie's sex number. And my cheese grater.

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