Conversation

Hey there big guy! I didn't think you saw me waving my hand across the room like a jackass or heard me screaming at you, also like a jackass, so I decided to run up and basically slap that book you were reading out of your hand.

Long time no see man! What, it's been two, three years? Wow time flies. Well that's good to hear you're doing good, even though I didn't ask you how you're doing so as to expedite the time it takes for me to talk about myself.  I'm doing pretty good, just taking it day by day, y'know? Me and Renee are still together, yup. 12 years going strong, haha. By golly I don't know why she puts up with a knucklehead like me, I really don't. Although I do know that me using phrases like knucklehead, by golly, shucks, and negro are the reason you fucking hated working with me.

Hey remember how my daughter, Carol, played soccer? No? Oh, that's right because I only just mentioned it right now completely unprovoked. Well I- we- (Renee wants us to not just think as a unit but speak as one too, gosh she's so smart) signed her up for a little league soccer team! Crazy right? I mean crazy how both my tone and inflection are way fucking off base for the revelation that a 6-year-old is playing soccer, right? RIGHT?

Well she doesn't actually play, only kid this season not to now that I think of it, but she's just glad to be out there with her friends, cheering on their victories and triumphs as she watches from the sideline like some second coming of her piece of shit do-nothing father. Look at all the pictures of her in her uniform! Doesn't she look adorable? Never you mind the individual pictures of girls that are clearly not my daughter I have in my wallet, I'll just laugh it off and keep talking about Carol like the creepy pervert that I am.

That's my Carol though, such a sweetheart. And the only thing keeping this failing marriage together. Only thing. In fact, the ol' missus has said as much to my face on numerous occasions. The best part, compadre (there's another faux folksy colloquialism), is that I'm not even sure if she's mine! Yeah!

Yeah, Renee caught a bit of the jungle fever, if you know what I mean, but with Mexicans. It was only for a year or 12, she'd get a little liquored up or sober and sleep with anyone who's last name ended in "ez." In her defense it was mostly my fault; what with me working 60 hours a week to pay for her extravagant lifestyle and the mountain of debt she dragged into our marriage I rarely ever saw her. I basically threw her into Escobar's burly chest. I should have spent less time worrying whether her impromptu spending sprees would bankrupt us and more time tending to her needs.

We're working it out though, with a new couple's therapy called Don't Have Sex With Him And Make Him Buy You Nice Things. Yeah, yeah it sounds exactly like what we were doing before but she insists that it's not. Now it's only fair I spend what little free time I have chauffeuring a daughter who looks nothing like me around to activities she doesn't actively participate in while my unemployed wife spends time at home working on our marriage with a live-in male Latino counselor. Well, as you remember I'm bad at ending conversations so bye!