Another Night at Chumps

I’m tired. Maybe I’ll fill in the details later, but here are the key facts.

It was karaoke night.
I wasn’t in the mood for making an ass of myself.
Jen wasn’t there, and I was slightly relieved about that. In this forum I had kind of waxed lyrical after our last meeting, and I wasn’t sure I could live up to that.
I was talking to an old softball chum when Jen showed up.
I was glad to see her there.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in Prague?” she asked, which meant she remembered me, but maybe I was a continent too close.
I sang a couple of songs, but didn’t nail them. The last one was Dylan, at Jen’s request. I’ve done it better. So has the rest of the planet.
Amy, you were totally wrong. I was right. Let me say that again. You were totally, totally wrong.
Jen can still wail, but she’s got to lay off the duets with (searching for polite term) losers.
Perhaps I could have stayed, but I was feeling decidedly unsmooth. I don’t think I mentioned before about her eyes. They’re good ones. They struck me tonight. Not like getting plowed over by a hurtling Peterbilt kind of struck, but a “damn, those are some fine orbs” kind of way.
I didn’t stay. If it is preordained that you do something stupid, make it walking away.
Pff. Who am I fooling?

2 thoughts on “Another Night at Chumps

  1. Sounds like you could use another evening at the High Country with Senor Lujan.

    I mentioned this in another thread, but that one’s on the verge of shrinking to the just-the-title list, where seldom is a post ever made. So I’m going to repeat it here, because it applies to both this blog and NaNoWriMo.

    The TV news featured a story about a group that is trying to preserve veterans’ stories of their experiences. One of the backers of this project is Tom Clancy, who in the interview with the news people said, “If you can sit in a bar and tell a story, you can write a book.” While Clancy was talking about non-fiction, I can see the same could apply to a novel.

  2. If you should stop through Bethany MO, look up an old man by the name of Don Smith. You’ll find him at the bar (Double D or the pool hall), quietly stirring up some sort of controversy. Although he may have laid off some since I’ve gone away. He was in the Navy longer than I’ve been alive and is definitely a source of interesting and sometimes disturbing information. He also has an amazing garden and will share whatever is fresh. We met when he took the cue ball off the pool table and decided to hide it in my handbag. Hours, well at least several minutes of fun ensued. Jerr, you would love him.

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