OK, these are my options:
1) I can walk to my parents house, but I'll never make it and neither will this sweet thing, Penny.
3) I can go to the other neighbor's house, Angie, but she gets mad at us when we leave branches that take up 1 foot of space in front of her house, in the road........one time! It was just one time!
4) I can go 2 houses down to Mr. Creepy McCreeperson's house. This is actually NOT an option.
So I vote for option 3. Angie it is. I hope she's ready for me. She opens the door hesitantly.............maybe it's because I look like one of Jesse Pinkman's degenerate hooligan drug selling friends, from 'Breaking Bad.' But then she must see Penny in my arms and decides it's safe. The reason she may think this is because I had a my hood up, nobody wants to see my scary bedhead, glasses, and my Ugg boots on with pants sloppily tucked in that say 'DOUBLE WIDE BOOTY', on the booty. It was like walking into your grandma's house. I used the phone to call my parents, they have an extra key. No one picked up. I called again, no one picked up. So Angie, offered me a cup of coffee while I waited. Oh sure, so I sat down in the kitchen and waited for the eternal pot of water to boil with Penny on my lap shaking with fear. Our conversation was like turning pages in a book, our topics changed that quickly. We talked about Angie's new computer which did not come with an instruction booklet. I suggested calling the number it came with, she said, "I'm not calling India!" She asked if I knew anything about computers....."Nope, nothing, I don't know anything about computers." Next up in conversation was the puppy, and when there were awkward silences we either mentioned the puppy or the weather. Finally my cup of instant Folgers coffee, with skim milk and sweet'n low, was ready. It took all of the strength I had left to drink that cup of coffee with a smile.
I know you are wondering why I'm blogging about this, just keep reading.
I was telling her that I was on medical leave, which is why I could take care of Penny. I could tell she was dying to know why, so I told her I had breast cancer. And the floodgates open..............
She told me she had breast cancer and pointed the breast that was gone from surgery. And then........she started to cry. This is my reaction, as I am sure it would be yours:
Next thing I know, she asks, "What's your nationality?" OK, I guess we are moving on. We spoke about being Italian, how long she lived in her house, when she sold tomatoes with her mother. We talked about what grocery store we shop at and how we both like the market down the street. We talked about how she strained her back moving her couch.
I decided to try calling my parents again, because it took me the whole time to remember what my mother's cell phone number was......what?, I have a smartphone to remember numbers for me!
My dad picked up and I whispered with gritted teeth for him to get over to my house NOW!
When I returned to the kitchen, Angie asked what was written on my pants. "Oh, it's something really inappropriate."
It was time for me to leave, so I thanked her very much for the coffee and the phone and I told her to put a heating pad on her back. As I was leaving my bestie, I heard her mumbling, "Ohhhhh, wide booty....haha."
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| By the way, my college roommates and I made these pants as a joke years ago, to a song called, "Booty Man." I naturally got 'double wide booty', my roommates got 'wide booty' and 'wider booty.' |
