Daffny picked us up, the only sober one among us but you really can't tell because he drives in the classic passive-aggressive style. You can tell a passive-aggressive driver by the key marks left on the side of their cars. Take Daffny's car for instance, it's keyed on both sides. He wonders how they got their. So I told him.
"Daffny, let's say a car is in front of you and it is going slower than the speed of traffic but you can't get around because all the other cars in back of you see what's happening and they take the next lane to pass. Up ahead is a green light but the slow car in front of you has suddenly slowed down even more and just when you get to the light it turns yellow and instead of the slow car speeding up to get through, they stopped to wait for it to turn green. Now, not only are you still stuck behind the slow car but everyone behind you is with only one thing on their mind, to get around the both of you as soon as the light turns green."
You wait, hoping that the slow driver moves just enough so that you can whip around quickly at the first chance but wait...The light turns green and the slow car in front isn't moving. The other lane is though and cars that have now come up fresh on you are quickly pulling around before the slow car begins to advance. That's why you have people following you so that when you park they can key your car."
Doesn't faze Daffny one bit. In fact he is proud of the long key strips on his Cherokee. "I don't care, let them waste gas, I'm not going above thirty miles an hour." It takes him time to get up to thirty too and then of course to slow down.
Once we were at Frodo's (our friend refers to his residence as a hobbit house. It is not exactly hobbit, more California bungalow updated with a bit of Northern California for landscaping. It is a nice place.
Now Frodo and the Irishman have lived together for a very long time. A very long time, in fact, no one really knows how long but certainly longer than the Orc that lives under the goat shed in the back of their property. We had brought two bottles of champagne.
The Irish was fighting mad already and ready to get liquored up. We were to be there at one in the afternoon. Just because it was one when we showed up didn't matter, The Irish was on his time and that's the only time that counts and according to his time, we were early. Once he took a cold shower and had a taste of the grape he settled down long enough to eat fish eggs on toast. And once we all were toasted, off we went to the French Market but not before Frodo investigated a trash bag across the street and someone parked at another neighbor's house. This took another half hour to satisfy Frodo and Irish that it was okay to leave Hobbitland to eat.
Eat we did, with a cute Russian to serve us, named Serge. His English, not so good and of course we had him tell us all the nasty words you can say in Russian. Not that we were going to remember them, but it was nice to hear such a cutie talk dirty to us in Ruskie, which is kind of a rough sounding language to begin with and that made it even better. After more champagne and more food we were just about ready to leave when Frodo's heart throb walked in.
This caused a major concern for Frodo who was still wounded from rejection. Frodo wanted to leave,
ASAP and we did too so that we could pry out all the details of love lost. Once back to Hobbitland we settled around the fire for the story Frodo and the Train Boy.
Frodo worked for Travel Town and met Train Boy at a party. It was love at first sight when Train Boy found out where Frodo worked. At least love at first sight on Frodo's part. Train Boy worked on a passenger train and was hoping to advance in the train world but Frodo could only offer love. It didn't take long for the romance to come to a screeching halt. Well actually, it never started except in Frodo's world. However, with the Irish liquored up and fighting mad, he attacked Frodo verbally.
"If there ever were a worse case of Flanagan folly, I'll eat an English trifle."
"Shut up! I'm telling the story, you Irish pig," Frodo yelled.
"Pig am I? You called me a pig, you shriveled up goat dick."
Oh, the two of them went on and on until we thought to excuse ourselves while they battled it out and what a joy it was to bring in the holidays with a good bitch fight.
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