The Third Wheel

Feb 8, 2010 9:50pm

To the little man running up the hill.

In a recent conversation with Brent and Lori Champagne due north via SUV the 45th parallel and talking tattoos.I’ll just cut most of the dialogue out but leave you with this-

Me-Sooo what’s you’re next tattoo in mind?

Brent-What’s your mom’s name?

Me-Nancy.

Brent-Nancy.

Me- Meh, why the hell do I even answer that?!?

Brent- HA HA HA HA, I know, Why do you?

Okay, I think I might be able to explain how I try to get through conversations and fail miserably with this.

Picture this little man that see’s the punchline and he knows whats coming and he’s running up a hill like Paul Revere trying to forewarn me. I make note of that little silhouette and the distant cry, I do. But the sky is really bright blue, and the grass is swaying, and a bird and whatever such internal noise all around that that little man running up the hill sweating his ass off, spurring the pace out of the ribs of a horse just goes unabsolved. He reaches the top, dismounts, puts his hands on his knees, stares down at the ground wheezing and catching his breath, then finally looks up completely perplexed and says REALLY?!? Really? In sheepish tone and grin, I look back at him near equally as astonished and say I just said Nancy. <sigh> you hate me don’t you…..