Friday, August 24, 2007

"Sure She's Older Than Mike!" or, Per Axl

What did one pedophile say to the other pedophile?
Sociable!
I am a teensy bit hungover still after Butler's bachelor party the evening prior.
So far I have eaten cold, burnt nacho cheese from a pan that was on Shandera's coffee table. We had made them drunkenly at three in the morning. I almost, almost, took the pan out of the oven without any sort of temperature protection.
Both of his cats have furballs while I rouse myself from sleep. Both of them. Within minutes of each other. Have you heard a cat regurgitate a hairball?
I collect Marie from wherever I left her. She is sporting a New Kids shirt. Her stock raises a few points in my head.
We lounge about my house for a bit. I call people about drugs. I waste time.
We climb into the car. We drive downtown. I have to get gasoline. We stop.
I pump the gas as she shouts amounts to me from the passenger seat. I have parked too awkwardly to see them myself as I dispense.

Despite our working in tandem, we miss a perfect pump.
I blame her.
On my way towards the gas attendant hut to pay, I jokingly tell her that I may need her money in case my VISA does not work.
I have no reason to believe that my VISA will not be operational.
What happens if you pump gas into your car, and then have no possible way to pay for it? Will the gas attendant folks, in their shirts, call the cops? Do they make you syphon the gas back out of your tank?
My VISA card is not accepted. Luckily, Marie has a sufficient amount of money on her person.
We have been together for an hour or two so far. I owe her money already. She is getting a dose of me quickly.
Enraged, I call the VISA people to ask why my card is not being accepted. These people always sound so miserable on the phone. Dealing with people like me all day, I can only imagine their despair.
You can't use a VISA card if you have a few hundred extra dollars on there, over your limit. Silly me.

VISA mystery solved, we head back to my home. For Wheat Thins. I laden Marie with snacks.
We prepare for Bell Island.
Some things to note:
-we have no information on the Bell Isle ferry, barring that it leaves for the Island every half an hour.
-we do not have a great amount of cash on us, and with my now useless VISA, Marie is paying for everything.
-I have still only eaten that burnt cheese.
-we are both very ridiculous people, and unsure of what she has heard, I do not know if she is aware to what degree I am like this. I have not yet learned this about her.











We roll out.


The drive is very pretty. We banter.
There are signs for us to follow. In time, however, the signs become non-existent, and we still have not seen a dock or boat of any kind.
We begin to reach the point in which we wonder if we have taken a wrong turn of some sort.
Then, we crest the hill. And d'ere she is.

The crossing I leave for tomorrow. I'm too juiced from the comedy still to write more.



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