small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: <strong>match maker me</strong>

Wednesday, March 10

match maker me

Back in the day I knew this cat by the name of Tom. He was a few years older and came here by way of Montana. He worked as an educator at one of the colleges here in town, and lived just a few blocks from me. Tom chewed tobacco, drank beer and screwed anything in a bra. One day my favorite aunt walked up to me and expressed how she was tired with the “class” of men she was running around with, and that she was in the search for something different. And I knew that at the same time Tom was also on the hunt for something decidedly different, because his game was getting weak and too well known amongst the female population of our area. See, Tom had this thing that he’d do. During a date he’d tell whomever he was out with that he left his wallet at home and he needed to swing by and pick it up. Of course being the gentlemen that he pretended to be, he’d invite the young lady up to his apartment whilst he looked for his wallet. And while the young lady was waiting in the living room he’d disappear into the kitchen as part of the ruse to retrieve his wallet. Wait a few minutes then boom; he’d walk out buck assed nekked, wearing nothing but socks and a smile. And you what? Seven out of ten times it worked. Hell, I even tried it once, but all that happened on my end was the sound of high heels beating a rapid retreat down the stairs. Hmmm, never did figure out what I was doing wrong. But anyway I told my aunt about the wild white boy and I told Tom about my aunt. They actually dated for a while until my aunt flew her freak flag once too often and punked ole Tom out. The way I see it, at least Tom escaped with his skin intact. My aunt was known for doing the bad deed thing. Like the one time one of her boyfriends fucked her over and decided to leave town for a few weeks. He had this nice tricked out van that he tooled around in and when he flew out of town he parked it out at the airport. Now my aunt being the inventive person that she is, realized that she still had a set of keys to his van. And being that my aunt was raised in west Texas, and not the fainting Mary sort, found his nice tricked out van at the airport. And wouldn’t you know it on the way to the airport also found a nice flattened piece of road kill by the side of the freeway. So after finding the van in long-term parking, she unlocked it and shoved the dead rotting flattened carcass into the glove box. From what I’ve been told, with it being summer and all hot and shit, the road kill got pretty ripe over the two or three weeks it sat in the van. Poor dumb fucker, he ended up selling it cause they never could get the smell out. So I did consider Tom lucky to be able to walk away like he did. After that I never did hook my aunt up with anyone else I knew.


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