Dinner With the Heartless Cows I Call My Friends

Tonight I went out for drinks and dinner with Friends #2, #3, #4, and # 8.

I don’t want to skip any key points that may help lend credence to my assertion that the above friends are heartless cows, so I need to tell you the whereabouts of Friend #7. Friend #7 is a dog rescuer, and she was at that moment taking a dog to a special surgeon in Columbia, MO, for an asshole reconstruction.

Friend #2 said, “Wait. Wait. The dog was born without an asshole?”

Friend #4 replied yes, the unfortunate puppy was born without an asshole.

Friend #2, “So, isn’t it an asshole construction? There’s no ‘re’ about it.”

This conversation went on quite some time. I believed I asked if there was a donor asshole.

Did I mention there were mudslides, daiquiris, espresso martinis and midori coladas consumed during the conversation above? It helped us picture the puppy’s reaction when he used his new asshole for the first time. Would he have an instinct that he’d been missing an asshole and now he had one? Or would he be alarmed? Would he spin around to see what was happening? We just didn’t know. At any rate, the alcohol enhanced the image of the prosthetic asshole puppy. It got pretty entertaining, and I laughed heartily.

And then, at some point during the hearty laugh, I segued to a hearty cough. Not just the cough that makes friends pat you on the back and ask if you need some water. I didn’t even start with that. I went straight to old man with emphysema hacking up juicy lung chunks. I wheezed, my lungs filled with water. I gasped for air.

Friend #2 looked bemused, then said, “Oh, look how red she is. Is she having a Copaxone reaction?”

I have often mocked Friend #3 for asking coughers if they need the Heimlich maneuver, because as I say, “if you can cough, you can breathe.” This is why Friend #3 immediately sneered, “Oh, she’s fine. If she can cough, she can breathe.”

I lifted my head from between my knees, wiped the spit off my chin, and decided against flipping off Friend #3 in favor of gesturing desperately at Friend #4’s water. Friend #4 is usually very nurturing. But Friend #4 didn’t give me her water. Instead, she turned to the others and said, “Maybe she’ll turn blue!”

I grabbed her water, threw the straw at her, chugged it down, and choked out, “Heartless whores.”

See? And, you may ask, what about Friend #8? Was she helpful? No. She sat there and avoided getting my phlegm on her shoes.