Hello and A Short Story

Well, well.  I haven't posted anything on this 'ol blog lately, so if you're reading this, I appreciate you checking in with me.  This Thanksgiving I was invited up my good friend Noel Thompson's place in Exeter, CA (3 1/2 hours north of LA, 3 hours south of San Francisco) and spent the holiday with his lovely wife Rachel, her momma Becky and her brother Stephen (who proudly roots for the LA Clippers like I've started to do) and her Grandmother.  Getting to hang out with the Thompsons and Dottas while eating delicious home-cooked meals, playing group games, golfing and day-tripping to San Fran easily made the list of the most enjoyable moments I've had in California.  It brings a smile to my face knowing that I have a second Californian home up in Exeter.  I hope y'all had an excellent Thanksgiving as well.  For this blog, I've decided to post a short story I recently wrote...Enjoy!

 The Problem With Conscience

     There was always one more uncomfortable conversation than expected.....Allen hated parties. He especially hated parties that were set for a certain time (in this case 7pm), but no one actually started showing up until a few hours later. Why didn't they just start the festivities at 9? He had been, by his standards, fashionably late- arriving at 7:30. It was now almost 11:00. He decided to exercise his communication skills one more time before throwing in the towel for the evening.

     “So, what do you do?”

     Yet another great start to a potentially meaningless conversation. Allen quickly wish he hadn't opened his mouth.

     “I'm a lawyer.”

     Great.

     “You know, I actually just finished up a case for a guy who looks exactly like you.”

     Oh, how interesting.

     “Huh. It's uncanny how much you look alike....”

     Allen couldn't stand when people didn't look at him when he was talking, so, on principal, he smiled and nodded at the guy wearing one too many tablespoons of cologne.

     “....are you related to a Gregory Ortatangle? I think it's Dutch. Anyways, Greg's one of those losers       

     who still lives with his parents...”

     I suppose I deserve this, Allen thought, I should have recognized by his tweed overcoat that he'd be a yapper. In between nods and “Ah-Huh”'s, Allen rotated stolen glances at his watch, other smiling party guests and the spit gathering on the sides of Mr. I-don't-get-to-bullshit-enough-at-my-day-job-so-I-have-to-do-it-at-social-gathering-as-well-guy's mouth. Then, the Lawyer's monologue shifted gears and directly involved Allen.

     “So are you gay or bi?”

     “Huh?”

     The lawyer chuckled.

     “You sound surprised.”

     “Surprised? Me? No, I was just...well, I was-”

     “Kidding! Wow, you should have seen your face! You thought I was hitting on you...”

     Wow. This guy was hilarious. They both smiled- the lawyer at his “cleverness” and Allen at the thought of his gay friend James who would have dropped-kicked this asshole by now. Even though he detested this guy even more after the joke, he had to admit, if he watched this happen to someone on a TV show, he may have laughed. More importantly, Allen saw this as the perfect opportunity to get out of this interaction and head home. Who else was going to silently protest the party starting later than it should have and go home at a decent time? Not the attractive brunette being bombarded by horny guys and their wingmen. Not the couple tag-teaming the ipod playlist while dancing like nobody's watching. Not the host, mainly since he's already home, but also because he's trying to talk to everybody in the room for exactly ten minutes, unless you're a female- then you got 15.

     “I'll be right back.”

     These words were quickly regretted. Allen knew he wasn't coming back, and though he probably would never talk to this guy again, he was instinctively paranoid on wanting to be perceived as a nice guy.

     “Okay, man! Could you grab me a Bud?”

     “Sure.”

     Allen walked with purpose towards the kitchen. He slyly slipped into the bedroom to grab his jacket. Without saying goodbye to his acquaintances (he didn't want to jeopardize his mission), he put his head down and headed for the entrance. Before he left the party, he glanced over at Mr. Lawyer. He was standing in the same spot, smiling at people walking past him with his hands in his pockets while periodically glancing towards the kitchen. From a distance, a thought crossed Allen's mind: That's me. He had abandoned a more annoying version of himself. Feeling guilty and a little embarrassed, he quickly squeezed out of apartment #327 and slinked down six flights of stairs. As he left through the flimsy glass door, he held it open for a group of friends who were too busy talking to notice the gesture. As Allen released the door, the crisp Friday night air picked up and whooshed through his hair, combing it the opposite way it was groomed. Allen looked back at the door he had just escaped through. The strong wind had blown it open before it had a chance to shut.