The Mind of Spaz

It seemed like just yesterday that I was a young twenty-one year old with my whole life ahead of me.

Now that I’m thirty-one I just want to retire already. My pension plan will let me do this sometime in the year 2042.  I think I can retire in 2037 with good behavior, or some shit like that.  Yay, I’m a bitter bastard with thirty years to stew!

Anyways, one night at around two a.m. my buddies wife sent him and I out for McDonalds ice cream.

Why at two a.m?  I don’t know. When I was young I didn’t sleep, didn’t want to sleep, wouldn’t sleep if I didn’t have to. It’s a bit of a different story now.

Also, why McDonalds ice cream when they had ice cream in the freezer? I have no idea. You see, several months earlier he had gotten her pregnant for some idiotic reason.  Hey, I don’t think they begrudge the kid. She’s a lovely little girl. It’s just that now they both have good paying jobs. It was a bit different back then. I mean, had they waited, she wouldn’t have had to breast feed the kid until she was seven. Or my buddy until he was twenty-nine.

Perhaps I’ve said too much.

Anyways, because myself and my buddy were night owls, she would send us out to fill her weird cravings at all hours.  And by weird cravings, I mean weird cravings.  She would want things like:

• KFC with Crisco (for dipping sauce)
• Stuffed crust pizza minus the pizza
• Mayonnaise
• Deep fried pickles (we had to get creative with that one)
• Garbanzo beans wrapped in bacon wrapped in lettuce wrapped in ham wrapped in beef wrapped in a soft taco shell dipped in chocolate (Don’t say we never do anything for you)
• A virginal Chinese woman floating in plumb sauce wrapped in rice paper and holding deep fried duck in her mouth.

Um, perhaps I’ve said to much again.

That night we took my truck, as between our two crap boxes we had deemed mine most likely to start.

I had an air freshener hung around the rear view mirror in the shape of two billiard eight balls.

Well, it was an air freshener when I bought it. Now it just took the fragrance of my truck, which was a mixture of tobacco smoke and fart.

My friend was fascinated with these things.  Well, maybe not so much fascinated with my fart balls. It was more like he was infatuated with pissing me off.

He took his finger and flicked one of the eight balls. It ricochet off my windshield and twisted up. As soon as it untwisted itself he did it again. And again. And again.

I asked him to stop it.

He did it again.

I asked him to stop it again.

He did it more.

By this time we were at the drive through window waiting for the ice cream. He wouldn’t stop what he was doing. By this time I was mad as hell and I screamed at the top of my lungs:

STOP FLICKING MY BALLS!

I didn’t see a very surprised McDonalds girl holding out an ice cream in my general direction.

My buddy leaned over to me and said in a not so quiet voice, “Hey Spaz! You should ask her out now!”.

Score one for you my friend, score one for you.

Uncategorized ball flicking, embarrassment, ice cream, McDonalds, pregnant