Why I was late for the party
“Tell the truth.”
“If I tell you the truth, you’d be surprised.”
“So what happened? Tell me. Tell me true.”
“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” What happened last night to make you get there so late?”
“it wasn’t all that interesting, really.”
“so then you have no reason not to tell me.”
“crap. You really must know? All right, but I warn you, you’ll regret it.”
“I was late for the bus. All right, you know it rained yesterday, right? Well, I hate rain, as everyone on earth knows. So when I got home, there wasn’t a dry spot on me. I had my jacket and sues off by the time I got to the elevator on the first floor. Yeah, that fast. In the elevator I was alone, so I took my nylons off- and my underwear. I wadded them up and squashed down the hall. I got an interesting look from the guy across the hall who was leaving.
“‘I guess I don’t have to ask you if it’s raining.’ He said, laughing a little. And so did I.
“Ayway, I dropped my stuff on the floor by the door. I had trouble with the lock- wet fingers. I got the door open and flung my wet clothes in. One of the shoes hit a glass and knocked it on the floor. I was surprised it didn’t break. I ripped my shirt off, and all the rest, and threw them on the floor. I hit the button on the machine and listened to the messages as I took my clothes.
“Now, this is the part where the ‘I was late’ thing comes in. See, Marshall was supposed to pick me up. You know Marshall. So he leaves this message saying he would be 15 minutes late, that he had to pick up Joe before he got me. I get a bad feeling about that. you know Joe, he’s never there when he says he’ll be there. i got this picture of Marshall standing there in the rain, getting more and more pissed off. He should kno9w better by now.
“It gets good now. I’m standing there with no clothes on. I gave Marshall a buzz to see if he left yet. I end up screaming ‘Marshall! Marshall!’ into the phone, but he wasn’t there. So I I got all the3 time in the world. So when I got out of the shower, I hear this banging on the door. So I hear- ‘come on, it’s Marshall, let em in.” So I wrap a towel around me and got the door.
“The one time you re early, and you re too early!’
“”I’m not early, I’m late. Nearly an hour. Get dressed. Lets go.’
“Late? No your not.” II took out my watch. II hhadn’t noticed before. It was falling apart. We were late, and for a change, it was my fault. Happy now?”
28 December, 2003
A story I relate to well- hating rain, especially when I am in it, and I am often late.
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