Magritte, table for two

this morning, i am making the Long Walk from Distant Inconvenient Parking to work – the Walk upon which no fewer than 2 (dos) employees have already been struck by cars in the last year. i begin the perilous Street Crossing and realize a car is coming and about to make the turn onto the Street i am Crossing. i step back onto the sidewalk.

but the car is slowing to a halt. spy-movie style, the window rolls down. who else do i find myself face to face with but Hot Lunch, with Identical Twin at the wheel.

this is a surprise a) because it is random to run into anyone you know like that 2) because i haven’t seen Hot Lunch since our breakup almost a month ago (except for a brief awkward chat at the library last week) and MOST IMPORTANTLY iii) because to the best of my knowledge the two of them have been drunk in Twin Falls for the last three days.

after receiving a text at 1 am last night that read: “Goofdnigtht ud.I’mbhAngikb g with my durmnk ass cousins . oodnight byd.;)” the last thing i expected to find them doing at 10 am this morning was getting all up in my Long Walk while driving a green hybrid.

“uh. how are you feeling?” i ask. “hung over?”

Hot Lunch, unshaven and wearing the glasses he hates, squints at me from where he’s kind of crumpled into the crook made by the passenger’s seat and the door. “He’s hung over,” he says. “I’m still drunk.”

I get a muddled description of their uncle’s wake and understand very little beyond Hot Lunch almost making out with his old high school buddy, who i know has little going for him these days beyond the skullet and the WoW obsession.

then Hot Lunch starts rummaging in some paper bags at his feet, exclaiming, “DO YOU WANT CANDY?? I HAVE CANDY!!”  at last he produces a truffle. handing it out the window, he places it in my palm as delicately as if it were an egg. he says simply:

“You should eat that. It has peanut butter in it.”

thank you, fate. when it comes to running into exes, i’ll take surreal over awkward any day.


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