curley bob
I call him Curley Bob because his hair curled wildly off his head, and I don't remember his name. People's names drain out of my head like water out of a bathtub. This effect is only made worse if I don't like you.Curley Bob annoyed me.
Curley Bob blabbed on and on to me about his real estate business and how he would never hire a black man over a mexican. He was trying to kill me with his boozy talking. I was just there to grab a salad and a couple drinks, maybe flirt with the waitress.
She sat down next to me at the bar in her slinky black dress, and I could feel Curley Bob looking at me. I had a match in my mouth.
I was trying to hold it in my teeth and strike it on the box. I looked over at her.
"Does this make me look like Clint Eastwood?" I asked.
"Oh yeah."
I finally succeeded in striking the match, but I had not calculated the size of the flame relative to the short length of the match. My face was on fire!
I spat the match out. "Jesus christ!"
She got up and ran away, laughing at me.
I watched her run off, and Curley Bob started talking at me again.
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