Cold Cocked...

It was so cold tonight I wanted to kick Scott Farkus’s ass. Never the less being the fucking diehard knuckleheads my friends and I are, we gathered for a night of drinking coffee in the frozen tundra.

“W.” called and said he had a taste for booze. As I am scheduled for an MRI in the morning, I told him I couldn’t come out and play. He said he would, “be in touch.” I hung up and figured the phone would be silent for the rest of the night. No more than ten minutes later, “W.” is on the phone again.

I pick it up and before I can answer, I hear:
“Coffee…at the usual…ten minutes.”

The phone goes dead and I have my orders. I text message “W.” confirm and pull on the cold weather gear. I limp out to the F1 and fire her up. She has been idle for two days but since we have a great relationship, she starts without a fuss. I let the engine warm just long enough so it won’t explode when I put it in reverse and then pull out of the driveway. On my way to meet, “W.” it’s obvious we’re getting the first snow of the season, no one is on the road and dudes are chilling in parking lots, truck engines running, plows at the ready.

I pull into the usual and “W.” is already there. He’s already called, “Jersey Mike” and “Dirty Frenchman” so the four horsemen will convene for caffeine. We get our beverages and walk back outside so those that smoke, (everyone except me) can light up. Apparently I missed the memo on not being able to drink coffee without smoking. “W.” and Jersey light up and I mimic to bust balls…it’s what I excel at.

It’s cold but not to the point where you can’t be out. If you were dressed for it, it’s brisk at best. Jersey complains about needing fluid for his wipers and decides now is a good time to fill it. He does so, and tests it out. Fluid pours out from the underside of his car, like water into the Titanic, laughter ensues.

Dirty Frenchman or “df” for short texts me and says, “he’s busy.” Translation: it’s to cold for him. As soon as I find out “df” isn’t coming, “Soon to be dead Vinny” and “The Guy” show up. At this point Jersey Mike, “W.” and myself have moved inside. “The Guy” comes to the window and puts his hands together in a semi-diamond shape to signify we’re pussies for being inside. “W.” gets another beverage and we head back into the tundra.

Vinny shows up with a girl who looks young for him and total jailbait for the rest of us. “The Guy” asks what it’s like having old man blood and we give him the stinkeye and tell him to take it easy. We all bullshit a shorter than normal time and Jersey and “W” take off. Vinny and “cotton candy panties” have mysteriously taken off and left “The Guy” stranded. He tells me he needs a job, that he will spend tomorrow night at a winter ball with, “The Girl” and that his child is doing well. We both agree that 2/3 of those things are the shits.

Vinny and “sweatpants boner” are gone for what seems like forever. In reality it’s just over an hour. My allegiance to “The Guy” is being tested by the cold. Had Vinny not come back when he did, I might have had to leave “The Guy” hanging. Vinny tells “The Guy” that junior varsity just drove around and around and maid multiple moves on him. Vinny says he fought off all attempts but “The Guy” and I are calling bullshit. While Vinny argues his case, “The Guy’s” phone rings and it’s the hook-up. The kick is up and it is good. I get to get in the F1 and go home and “Soon to be dead Vinny and The Guy” take off to pick up an ounce of the Chron-dizzle.


Ahhhhhh…..to be young and unfettered by responsibility again.

I hope you all are well.

Cheers,
JJ