Monday, March 30, 2015

Fifty Shades of Parody (Chapter 17b)

I drive my new car to work.
     "Wow!" my boss, Mr. Clayton says. "An Adobe!"
     He immediately begins hitting it with a baseball bat.
     "Hey! Hey!" I yell at him. "What are you doing to my new car?"
     "No, it's alright," he assures me. "See? You can mold the clay body back into its original shape."
     He invites all his employees to come beat my car like a piñata.
 
     Later, I can't believe it, we're finally finished packing. I was in charge of the work, and Kate was in charge of criticizing the work as I was doing it. We make a good team, my roommate and I.
     Jose shows up just as I finish taping up the last cardboard box. Jose is a master of timing. He'll always show up just as the work's done or the food's ready.
     "Can I help?" he asks.
     "You're too late," I tell him. "This is the last of it."
     "I meant with the beer."
     "Buying it?"
     "No, drinking it."
     "You two amateurs indulge yourselves with your hops and whey," Kate tells us. "I'm going to help myself to something a bit stronger."
     "Wine?"
     "Yes. And meth."
     That Kate. She's done so many drugs, her driver's license has a list of organs she needs.
 
     Finally, it's just me and my two drunk friends. We're fondly reminiscing about the last four years of college. Jose and Kate are competing to see who's slept with the most professors. So far, it's a toss-up, and it quickly evolves into a drinking game where everybody takes a shot of tequila when they name someone they both went to bed with.
     I look at the two of them and think about my future. There's a world out there full of amazing possibilities, but that would require me pushing myself away from my favorite plate of food.
     A knock at the door breaks me out of my reverie.
     Kate opens it and immediately has half her face sucked off by Sonny Crockett.
 
     Jose and I excuse ourselves and head out the door. We head Downtown to where Jose has heard they're giving away free government cheese. It turns out to be a hoax. It's not cheese they're giving away for free, it's penicillin shots, something Jose needs even more than diary products.
     I can't believe how easy it is between Jose and I. The last time I saw him, it ended badly with him trying to force me to read his humor blog.
     What is it with these guys who write humor blogs?
 
     We get back to the apartment. Jose wants to come up.
     "Maybe we could have sex?" he asks.
     "Um... I don't have a penis," I remind him.
     "Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting," he says and leaves.
     As I walk into the apartment for what may be the final time, I can hear Kate and Crockett being noisily busy.
     "Kate!" I yell. "If you break that chandelier, it's going to come out of  your share of the deposit."
     "Isn't this chapter over yet?" she yells back.
 
     Before I go to bed, I get on the mean machine. I call it that because of how it insults me every time I log on.
     Hello, Ana, the computer tells me.
     I wait.
     The insults should be flying any second now.
     How may I help you? it  adds, finally, when it gets no response from me.
     Holy crap! The computer's actually being nice to me? I don't believe it.
     "Um... do I have any emails?" I ask it.
     Yes, the computer reports. You have 32 emails from Mr. Grey.
     "Please access my emails, computer," I tell it. "And you were very helpful today."
     Thanks, slut.
     "What did you just say?"
     I said, "Thanks. A Lot."
     Hmm...
     I go over Christians emails. All 32 of them. I wonder what's wrong. It's not like him to send so few.
 
 
Are you there, Ana?
 
Ana, are you there?
 
You are there, Ana?
 
There, Ana, are you?
 
You there, Ana, are?
 
Ana?
 
Are?
 
You?
 
There?
 
     Who knew there could be thirty-two variations on those two words? I mean, four. One, two, three, four. Yes, four.
     Holy crap, am I in deep doodoo with Christian. I quickly grab my phone. There's a message from Christian. Thank goobers, it's only one.
     But it's fifty-seven minutes long!
     Is this guy nuts, or what? If he thinks he can intimidate me with thirty-two emails and one fifty-seven minute long voice message on my cell phone, boy, does he have another thing coming.
     I call him immediately.
     "Hello," he answers.
     I was expecting him to be angry at me. Livid, even. But he's not. In fact, he sounds rather apologetic. Contrite.
     "Where The Hell Have You Been?" he yells, quietly.
     "I was packing up with Kate. And then Jose came over. We went out. A homeless man asked us for a bite. So we bit him."
     "I'll see you Sunday?"
     "Yes, Sunday."
     "Great. I'll go out and buy a new spatula immediately. Go to bed now, Anastasia."
     Is this guy nuts, or what? If he thinks I'll go to bed just because he tells me to, boy, does he have another thing coming.
     "Okay," I tell him
     "Well, goodnight, Ana."
     "Goodnight, Christian."
     "Hang up."
     "You hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "No, you hang up."
     "WILL ONE OF YOU HANG THE FRAK UP?" Kate yells from the other room, just as I hear the chandelier come crashing to the floor.
 
 
Fifty Shades of Funny
jimduchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
 

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