A Fool In The Rain

May 10, 2008 at 4:39 PM | Posted in Riding In Cars With Pizza | Leave a comment
  Wednesday night I drove, because I needed off Friday, and worked out a quid pro quo with Dina.  It rained. 
  I’m wearing shorts, trying to keep my windows from fogging up, getting wet, can’t see, and not getting tipped very well.  It reminded me of the old days–
  Cause there are some fuckers out there–and you know who you are–that are too good to get food delivered.  That is, until it rains or snows.  A torrential downpour and potential tornado is what it takes to get you to the phone to order a pizza?  Thanks but no thanks–I can live without your 48 fucking cents. 
  –Cheapskates are eternal.
  Dina told me it was tentatively a dinner rush with the possibility of closing.  I made up my mind that I would close. . . but my heart wasn’t in it.  Luckily, Steve was scheduled to close, and I knew he would because Dina was closing.  Is there something going on between those two?  Possibly?  Are they discreet?  Not really.  Is one of them married with a wife and newborn baby at home?  Yeah, can you guess which one?
  This is nostalgic, too.  I guess the smell of rain brings back certain memories.  I have seen, over the years, a couple dozen office romances at Domino’s.  This is merely the most recent.  And I never had any, but of course I always had sweet young chicks working for me that I was interested in.  Stacy, Melanie, Missy, Becky, another Becky, Shamiel, Danielle, Jen, Erin–these are the ones off the top of my head.
  My favorite thing about high school girls is that I keep getting older, but they stay the same age.
  I had a 17 year old girl working for me in 94–what was her name?  Natural redhead.  Cute as hell, a real vixen.  She actually ended up marrying one of her high school teachers…so when I tell you this story, I mean that yes, I really could have hit that.
  We were talking about tats and piercings and so forth–she had her tongue pierced.  She was several sorts of early adopter. . .   She showed me her belly button piercing–her smooth, creamy white skin….
  She said she also had her wahoo pierced.  I stared at her in disbelief.  "Would you like to see it?"  Yes, yes I would.
  In my brain flashed this scenario.  I lived not too far from the store.  The wife and my young son could (and have before) stop by at any time, unannounced.  The girl whose name I cannot remember would be in the office, on the desk, with her pants off and legs spread apart, giving me the tour.  I would be right there in it, having a look.  In walks the wife and child.
  I’d have a lot of explaining to do.
  ("Look at this hon!  Her wahoo is pierced.")
  At the time I foolishly thought I was going to be with her forever, and that would be along time to have to live down something like that.  If I had been smart enough to realize I eventually would leave her, I would have gone ahead and had a look.  And a lick.  And a–
  Man.  Woulda shoulda coulda.

  Regrets?  I’ve had a few.    

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