Monday, April 22, 2013

Suicide watch, a couple years ago.

I got a call Saturday morning, first thing I hear is "I'm pretty close to a bullet in the head".  It's a friend, he demands we meet for lunch, he says he is suicidal, and about to do it.
We meet at a place without much business, a big booth to ourselves.  He comes in all red eyed and red nosed.  I knew something was up a few days ago in a high powered very important meeting he took a call then dashed out, left me to face a room full of customers on a multi-million dollar contract presentation.

"Why you going to kill yourself buddy?"  I ask as we wait for a wood grilled burger.  And so for the next 2 hours he tells it like this.
The wife got sores on her nipples, like blisters, so she went to the doctor.  This women doctor took one look and said herpes.  She rushes home and calls her mother.  Now the friends little wife is good looking, and I have also met her mother.  No likeness what so ever.  The mother-in-law is an A-1 Battle Axe.  Momma and wife decide hubby has been fucking around and brought home the bug.  They call a locksmith, turn off the garage door opener, gather up a few of his things in paper bags, throw them in the drive and call hubby in my meeting and report the herpes infested bosoms.  He tears home, they won't answer the door, he beats it till the neighbors come out and watch.  He checks into a hotel and spends hours calling the wife, she never answers, only the battle axe who calls him names, cries, and hangs up every time.
(me) "So, have you been fucking around?  And have you been rubbing your dick on her, ah, chest?"
Well, not really, not fucking, but, he met a little pop sickle at the gas station in a red convertible and for the last 3 weeks they meet for oral sex in his car every day or two, one day is her turn, one day his.

Then something weird gets mentioned.  He tells me the impending destruction of their lives is especially tragic since they have been having trouble getting pregnant she is on all kinds of hormones and such, from another doctor.
(me) "Wait, hold on here.  This could be a reaction to the drugs.  Do you have any herpes sores?"
(he) "Nope."
(me) "So get tested, or ask her to go to the hormone doctor, I bet it's the drugs".
(he) He is OK with that but in the mean time he's got a swell plan to fix everything,  first beg the battle axe to let him in, or let him talk to her, then tell the story, admit everything.
(me) "No no no.  I'll bet it's not herpes, and you are going to clear your consciounce but it will only hurt her, you might feel like you did the right thing, but she gets hurt".
(he) "Nope, I'm going to lay it on the line"

Well, here's how that turned out.  After a couple days and 50 phone calls he finally gets battle axe to let him the garage, battle axe and wife come out all puffy and sobby.  He tells the popsicle story, with all the little nuances.  That should settle everything right?  Get out get out, that put him back in the hotel for another 4 or 5 days with 3 days of clean clothes until........wait for it.......wife goes to hormone doctor.  Hormone Dr. reports, yes sir ee, that was the girlie meds made those weepy blisters on your perky brests.  So now it's established he didn't get herpes from kissing the sports car driver between the elastic bands of her panties. he comes to me with the idea to sue this doctor.
(me)  "Are you fucking nuts?  You want this in court with the wife giving evidence?  Who's side is she going to be on when all this has to be retold again?    You think your going to win some money and do what with it, install a dog door to sneak in next time you fuck up your life?  And the god damn battle axe, ya think she's going to poison you this Christmas, or wait till the next?"
He finally got home that night, on the couch for a week he told me, but home.

Yea, they are still married, but it's an odd one those two.  At a dinner party on their deck a couple years back she thought he was flirting with one of the women, gets pissed, goes in and comes back with a wispy little peekaboo thin as cigar smoke sun dress no bra and serves dinner and drinks and flirts like hell.  You see, this couple enables one another to excesses.

My life is so simple compared to some.  Geeze!


  1. This is for real huh. I thought it was going to be a joke.

  2. You need to go see Frair Brownback...


    1. Not me, maybe they need to see him, I ain't got no lollypop in a red sports car.

  3. Wonder what would happen if they expended all the flirting/carousing energy on each other? Probably wouldn't see 'em for days.


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