ARRIVE, Raise Hell, LEAVE

by Bonachichi

I have a friend I’ve known since childhood and I’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately. She has a brother I’ve known just as long, and that whole family lives within minutes of each other. Her brother is one of those Don Juan guys. Macho and a real ladies’ man. My girlfriend and I were working on her computer and here comes Mr. Don Juan… face contorted in pain, labored breathing, hunched over and limping. “Your daughter just hit me in the nut sac with a shoe!”

We knew we shouldn’t, but we just couldn’t help ourselves. We were laughing so hysterically that my girlfriend’s husband came to see what the hell was going on. Between snorts, I asked Don Juan if I could get him a bag of frozen peas or something. He declined, and then claimed that “it” wasn’t going to work for at least two weeks. It may as well be a lifetime for him.

I really like this guy. He’s incredibly fun, funny and the sort of person people like to be around. Which is why I wonder what makes me want to terrorize him and enjoy his pain. We got on to a crowded elevator yesterday and for no reason whatsoever, I said to him, “It smells like someone farted. Did you fart?” Instead of being embarrassed, he told the rest of the elevator, “She ripped a big one just before we got on and it probably came in with her”.

I fear I have met my match. I borrowed a shirt from him and wore it for hours (in Hollywood) before I realized the back of it said, “I’m not a doctor, but I’ll take a look.”