Tell Them You're a Cripple

Last night was a lovely evening. I made dinner for a couple of friends, Bernicia and Tabernacle. I made an old family recipe--perhaps of Yiddish descent, but I'm not sure. And by family recipe, not my family. The recipe was handed down by my grandmother, but my father says she got the recipe from her next-door neighbor.

We ate. And after, Tabernacle went off to hang out with one of her friends, and Bernicia and I went to Mi Piace.

There, we ran into Adam and his posse, as well as several hot lay-deez from my gym. Bernicia wanted to dance, but I couldn't dance much because of my back. I bought a six dollar bottle of water (imported from Norway, and in a neat looking bottle) and hung out.

To refresh you, I coughed. This threw my back out. My back goes out about every six months. Last time I threw it out by walking up the staircase to my apartment. I was in so much pain I could hardly crawl through my door. Before that, I threw it out by sneezing; I could hardly walk for three days. The back problem stems from stupidity at 17 and a car accident at 21.

So back to Mi Piace. I'm sitting there in the chair watching Bernicia dance. How exciting is this? This girl loves to dance--to any music, at any time. She shakes her booty, and gets mad if you don't watch. Well, I went ahead and watched for her. Then she spread the word that I had hurt myself and couldn't dance. I didn't know what she said, but she was talking to these other really hot girls from my gym, and then pointing to me. The next thing I know, one by one, they're dancing right in front of me, waving their be-hinds in my face and doing some right naughty things. One did unmentionable, fun-to-watch naughty things. Another laid on top of me and continued dancing as I sat in the chair. A couple more did many very fascinating, fun things. This was all quite enjoyable. A guy sitting next to me watched in awe with his friends, and then asked, "Is it your birthday, man?"

"No, man. They just like me."

And to think that Adam had just left perhaps ten minutes before with his cousin and her friends...He missed quite a lovely show.

Excitement
I sat with Bernicia for awhile drinking my expensive water. Then this woman walks in and starts yelling at Bernicia. She tells Bernicia, "Andy's my boyfriend. I'm Malta. I'm his girlfriend. Do you like Andy? Because we're getting married, and he's..." Here, I couldn't hear what she was saying.

Bernicia was a bit shocked at this. Andy is a chef. Dude has two Freightliner catering trucks, but that's besides the point right now. Andy's girlfriend was there. She'd followed Andy to Mi Piace, where she'd assumed he was going to hook up with Bernicia. But I was sitting there talking to her. Malta continued yapping to Bernicia, and demanded she go outside. She wanted Bernicia, Andy, and her to 'talk.'

So I went outside with Bernicia and put a protective arm around her. This seemed to throw Malta a curveball. Malta was rambling about how Andy was going to marry her, and what right did Bernicia have...then she noticed my arm around Bernicia.

"Is that your date?" the bitch demanded.

"This is my...friend," Bernicia said. I need to teach Bernicia some lying skills.

Here, Malta paused, then I guess she realized she'd gone too far. "Well, you need to come down here. We need to confront this RIGHT NOW." And there was poor Andy sitting in his car with his head in his hands--ostensibly from embarassment.

So we went back into the club and pretended that that hadn't just happened. At the end of the night, Bernicia said she was afraid they'd be waiting for us. So we again walked with our arms around each other to give the appearance of a happy couple. I talked about wedding plans, and nice things I was planning on buying her. Things really wealthy couples do (not a broke government employee).

We seemed to be in the clear. However, as we approached an alley by the parking garage, I said, "Oh my God...I think they'll be waiting in the alley." I was sort of kidding, but also felt a strange premonition.

We got to the alley, AND...nobody was there. But then a car pulled up, and Malta was yelling at us. She said she followed Andy because she wanted to see how much of a jerk he is, and who he's cheating on her with, etc. Crazy bitch stuff. Unfortunately, Bernicia tried reasoning with her like a rational human being.

Malta was obviously not rational--past hysterical, tear-streaked, possibly drunk. There was a very embarassed-looking girl in her front passenger seat trying to appear that she wasn't there.

I kept telling Bernicia, "Don't waste your time. We need to go. She's nuts. She won't listen." Bernicia kept talking. So I interrupted (you can call it the arrival of Mr. Bullshit).

Mr. Bullshit (that was me) said, "Listen, she and I (I said pointing to Bernicia) have trust. We trust each other. I trust what she does, and she trusts what I do. I don't have to follow her around. You're wasting your time out here."

Malta, fast to pick up on the earlier 'friend' comment said, "She's just your friend."

"What goes on between us is none of your business." I'd never acted this well in high school. I'd always been prone to stage fright, and once blacked-out and almost fainted awaiting my next scene in Romeo and Juliet. But here, I was relaxed--realistic. It was my best acting performance ever. Malta seemed royally confused at this point. I asked the embarassed girl if she felt safe, or if she wanted a ride. She said she was fine.

Bernicia tried talking a little more to her, but I told her, "She's nuts, dude. You're wasting your breath. Let's just go." And we left.

Malta didn't follow us after that. Perhaps because we went into the parking garage, and that shit costs five dollars.