State of Emergency

“So you don’t want me to just come get you tonight and you could stay over?” I asked over the phone.

“I need to get laid, tonight.” my brother said plainly and I laughed at his candor.

“State of emergency?” I asked wryly.

“You don’t understand!” he complained “You have it easy.”

“What the hell makes you think that?” I snorted.

“And being broke just makes it harder.” he went on.  “It’s next to impossible to get laid without any money if you’re a guy.” There was a pause in the conversation while we each took a drag and exhaled together.

“It’s cool though.” He recovered his sense of humor. “There’s a jar of old candy around here somewhere. Girls like candy, right?” He did a voice,  “You want a piece of candy, sweetheart?” I guffawed appreciatively.

“Too bad you don’t have a van. You could throw a cooler in it, sell ice cream and pick up girls. My gawd. I just solved all your problems!”

“I know! Not driving doesn’t help either. But with some cash I can at least treat a girl to a nice ride on the city bus.”

“Stop! I can’t breathe! Where do you usually take them?”

“Oh I don’t know. A movie or something. I prefer to get them drunk.” he said. “But candy might do the trick.”

“You’re going to be just fine, ya know that? You‘re funny. Girls love funny. You‘re going to be fine.”

“I’d be better if I could get laid.”

“Were you talking about that nasty hard candy collection Mom’s been dusting for five or ten years?”

“yeah.” he sheepishly admitted.

“Maybe you can find one that’s already drunk.” I suggested rather helpfully. “But don’t poison her with that shit candy. Funny won‘t save your pretty blue eyed ass in jail.” 

June 22, 2009