Have you ever wanted to hurt yourself?

“Feeling better?  Taking your meds, Wolf?   Taking it easy?  Remember, only limited activity for a few weeks.”


“I suppose your next question will be, ‘Have you ever wanted to hurt yourself?'”


“What?  What’s that mean?”


“Who knows?  Every time I turned around, someone was asking me if I wanted to hurt myself.”


“What did you say?”


“I told them, ‘hell, yes.  As a matter of fact, I have been trying to get someone to take me out back and shoot me for months.'”

“That was stupid.”


“Then the next question was always the same:  Do you do illegal drugs?”




“Same answer, Minnie.  “Why?  You got any?”


“You know, Wolf.  It’s no wonder no one takes you seriously.  I’m surprised you’re not in the mental ward, or rehab.”


“On Thursday night, at 230am, a nurse woke me up to tell me I could order breakfast at 6am.  I told her that I was hungry now, so could she bring me a filet mignon and a glass of wine.”


“Oh for crazy.”


“No crazier than the nurse.  So when I woke up the next morning, I reached for the phone to get my steak and wine breakfast and noticed my breakfast was waiting for me.”


“Wow!  You actually got what you wanted?”


“No, Minnie.  I got  thimble of apple juice, a huge dish of diced, canned peaches and a non toasted English muffin with grape jam.  The nurse came in and I said, “hey, remember that question about hurting myself?  Well, take a look at this and tell me if there is any reason that I shouldn’t.”


“Did you eat it?”


“Shut up Minnie.  I was starving all day, and very weak, from hunger.  Then they put me on a tread mill and expected me to run a marathon.  There I was, food and wine deprived and damn it, they never did share their illegal drugs.”


“Did you get lunch?  Or dinner?”


“I sat in the hallway wrapped up in a blanket for an hour after the test,  and when I got to the room, the doctor came in and said, “have you ever thought of hurting yourself?”




“Yup.  I said, I will if I don’t get the hell out of here.”


“I am surprised they released you.”


“Yeah, well, the doctor said I would be released as soon as he did the paper work.   So I took a shower and washed my hair, and the damn shower had no curtain, so the bathroom was flooded, and there I was, for the first time, trying to find a nurse.  Of course there were not any available.  I guess they all work nights and only show up at hourly intervals to torture the patients.  Anyway, 5 hours later, I was a raging lunatic, still waiting.   I refused to sit in that damn wheel chair and wait for someone to wheel me to the door, so I left, and wouldn’t you know it?  I got lost.”


“I am totally surprised that you made it this far in life.  You are a mess.”


“When I finally got down to the lobby, I asked a woman where I was.  She was one of those old crabs, and said,  “What the hell?  I just smiled and said,  “Hey, thanks.  You don’t have any illegal drugs, do you?”






Do not pee with a stink bug on your head

“Hey, Wolf, there are stink bugs hanging out on the front door.”


“Don’t let them in, you idiot.  Let them hang.”


“I opened the door and one got in.  It is flying around like a wild banshee.”


“I hear it.  It makes a buzzing sound before landing on the head of the person who let it in.  I see it now, on your head.  For Pete’s sake, don’t smash it or your head will stink.  Just let it hang out and see if it buzzes away.”


“Where?  It’s on my head?  Do you see it?  Oh no.  I hate stink bugs.  Please, grab it and smash it.”


“Nope.  I refuse to smash a stink bug.  Just go outside and see if it flies away.  If it doesn’t, don’t come back inside.  Just stay out there until stink bug season is over.”


“I see one sitting on your hand!   It’s an invasion of the s bugs!”


“Watch this, Minnie. I am grabbing a tissue.  I am gently capturing the bug in the tissue.  I am walking him to the bathroom.  I am giving him swimming lessons.  Oops, I flushed.  Good bye Mr. stink bug.”


“Is it…. is it still on my head?”


“Yup.  It is nesting in your blue bee hive.  He is yours for life.”


“Call 911.  Call pest control.  Call the cops.  I hate bugs.”

“Hold your horses, Minnie.  He is walking around fluttering his wings.  I think he is mating.”


“Oh no!  A nest in my hive?”


“Hey, let it happen.  The litter will hatch, stick close to home and your hive will be a haven for the much maligned stinkers.  You know, they get a bad rap.  They really are harmless.  They just like to hang out where it’s warm.  And if you disturb them, they throw the switch, much like their cousins, the skunks.”




“Their weapon is their pee.  Stink bugs and skunks pee when they are angry.  And they regularly have bladder infections.  So do not, under any circumstances, let them pee.”


“But I have to pee.  Now what?”


“Never pee with a stink bug on your head.”


“Why not?”


“It might fly around and cause an accident.  You could fall off the toilet.”


“Is that what happened to you last month?”


“Yeah.  That’s it.  A stink bug made me fall off the bowl.”


“And I thought it was the wine.”


“Of course it was.  The damn stink bug was drunk.”




Please get me out of here

“Nice of you to show up after 2 days of missing in action, Wolf.”


“Yeah.  I took a short vacation.”


“Where did you go?”


“To a large facility.  Had to share a room, but it was ok. My room mate couldn’t hear very well, so if I talked to her, she didn’t know it.”


“What was she doing there?”


“Oh, she fell, 3 times at home and was all bruised up.  Looked pretty awful, but she was a firecracker.  She was supposed to stay in bed, but she kept getting up and going for a walk down the hall, in her nightie that exposed her hieney.”




“And the gal in the next room was 97 years old, and had a limited vocabulary.  She kept saying, Please, please, please, please, get me out of here. Please, please, please.  I have to get out of here.”


“What kind of place is that for a short vacation?”


“Well, it was different.  I was escorted everywhere I went, and had at least 12 or 13 wires hooked up to me, at all times.  I even got to try out a treadmill.”


“Was your bed comfy?”


“What bed?   When I was wheeled to my room, the bed was missing.  So someone brought in a huge recliner and there I sat for 4 hours while they tried to find a bed.”


“Did you get any rest?”


“Yes and no.  I mean, I would fall asleep and every 2 hours, someone came in to the room and stuck a needle in me and squeezed the hell out of my arm.  I would just about fall asleep again and I would hear, “Please, please, please, get me out of  here.”


“How was the food?”


“I had room service.   We got a menu that made the food look like it should be in a magazine.  The only problem was it must had been Mad Magazine.  It was tasteless, fatless, salt free, and bland as a boiled banana.  I tried to order coffee and was told that it was not available….. to me.”


“Really, Wolf.  It sounds like a terrible vacation.”


“No, Minnie.  It actually was probably the best vacation I have ever had.”


“How so?”


“My ticker is healthy. I don’t have a diseased gall bladder and I met a lot of marvelous people.”


“You are crazy, Wolf.”


“You could be right.  I may have to go back some day and have that checked out.”




Running on empty

“Was hump day every thing you imagined, Wolf?”


“Let’s put it this way:  I have no vision of what hump day signifies.   If you mean, did I see a camel, hell no.  If you mean, did I hump, well, none of your business.  If you mean, did the middle of the week give me thrill, as in:  I found my thrill, on blueberry hill.  Well, almost.  I went to the refrig and someone ate my blueberry yogurt.  I am so happy someone ate it.  I really am not fond of yogurt.  For your information, I walked to the top of the hill, rolled down, and had a great fall.  Humpty dumpty.  That’s me.”


“You fell?”


“Yes, along with Jack and Jill.”


“Did anyone survive, to see another day?”


“Well, from what I observed today, at work, probably not.”


“What happened?”


“We all quit.”




“We all fell into the hole:  the hump hole. And we barely emerged, with bruised humps and battered egos. Oh the humanity.  Oh the abuse.  Yo eeeeeeeeeeeee oh.”


“What’s with this quitting?  I hear you all quit every day.  Yet, you all show up the next day.  I don’t get it.”


“We are all chasing rainbows, Minnie. And the dream. Yeah, that’s it.  We are all living the dream, and when we fall down the hill, for some crazy reason, we show up the next day and do it all over again.”


“Are you related to Jackson Browne?”


“Of course we are, Minnie.  We are all running on empty, pretending that tomorrow will be a new beginning.”




“Say a prayer for the pretender
Who started out so young and strong
Only to surrender”


“Give up Wolf?”


“Are you kidding?  Tomorrow is thirsty Thursday.”



Moving on

“So you had a farewell party today, eh, Wolf?”


“Yeah.  Richie was a butterfly, but he turned into a caterpillar.”


“Who was at the party?”


“Babs, the ultimate sex queen, and Oscar, the grey haired hippo, and moi.”


“How do you feel about losing another comrade?”


“They are dropping like flies, Minnie.  The door to the unknown has opened, and the evacuation continues.  Soon, I will be the only one to remember when Abe Lincoln ran our company, back in the good old days.”


“Was it a sad farewell party?”


“Only for 3 of us.”


“Hmmm. Let me guess. The outsider was Rich?”


“Yeah, he blinked those blue eyes and smiled his ass off.  He reminisced about the bad old days.”


“Bad old?”


“Yes.  We went through hell, Minnie.  There was Babs, a financial wizard, subjected to roaming through the office steering a cart with a bad wheel.  Oscar, who was the star of the show at her old job.  She quit, signed up with us and she did  not even know who the hell her new boss was.  And me.  Heck, I didn’t even get a job interview.  I was the black wolf. The unknown entity.  The maverick from the underworld.”


“I thought you were the black sheep.”


“Shut up Minnie.  Then there was Rich, who worked for banks and the government and who traveled the world, and  then signed up with us.  And who do you think they stuck him with?”


“No.  Not you.”


“Yup.  He knew way back then, that in order to retain some sense of normalcy, he had to move on.”


“You should be happy for him.  He has opened up new doors.”


“That door, when it closes, will leave a hole in my heart.”


“Isn’t that what life is all about?  Isn’t that why we should enjoy every moment we can, and treasure the people around us?  Aren’t we all destined to move on someday?”


“I guess. But I hate good byes.”


“Then, don’t say it.”


“I won’t.  Hey, Rich!  If you are reading this, you are an idiot.   So I am not saying good bye.  I am saying good luck, and keep in touch!  We will miss you!”



Who needs a gall bladder, anyway?

“So. It comes down to this:  You are diseased.”


“Not me, Minnie. It’s my body parts. Who needs a gall bladder, anyway?”


“I have heard that when you get your gall bladder removed, they take other organs.”


“Yeah. They wipe out your insides.  You live the rest of your life with a gastro detour to your liver.”


“You seem to be in remission, tonight, Wolf.   How is that possible?”


“Don’t ask.  I won’t tell.  But I think it has to do with yogurt and wine.”


“No pain?”


“I wouldn’t go that far, but yogurt is soothing, and wine, well, wine.  Yes, wine.  Enough wine and you can endure the pain.  Getting stoned relieves the stones.  And tonight, for a brief moment, I am without pain.”


“Did you make an appointment, to see the doctor?”


“I called.  The office was closed.  I left a message.”


“And what did you say?”


“Hey, Doc!  It’s me, Wolf.  Can you please take me out back and shoot me?”


“Did you get a call back?”


“Yeah.  He said, ‘Not you again.  Take 2 aspirins and call me in the morning.  Right now, I am indisposed,  My gall bladder is killing me. Send me a check for $100.”




“I called him back and told him to eat a container of Greek yogurt and drink a few bottles of wine.”


“Then what?”


“He called back, drunk as a skunk and without pain.”


“What did you say to him?”


“Take 2 aspirins, send me a check for 150 dollars and call me in the morning.”






What about leap year?

“The weekend is slowly melting away.”


“Don’t be an ass, Minnie.  Weekends don’t melt, they fade away.”


“This weekend is fading, Wolf.  How do you feel about that?”


“Tormented, Minnie. Tomorrow we start the ritual, counting the days until the next weekend.  Freedom, Minnie.  It rings.”


“If you had every day off, do you think you would ever get dressed?”


“Who knows?  Who cares?  Freedom means never having to get dressed.”


“You might run out of clean pajamas.”


“If I had every day off, I would buy 356 pajamas.”


“What about leap year?”


“I would get dressed every 4th year, to stock up on wine.”


“Tick. Tick. Tick.  Slowly fading….”


” Yup.  That’s ok with me.”


“What the hell?”


“I have to go shopping for wine and pjs.”




Get me a cab

“It’s Saturday night.  I think I’ll get a cab.”


“What?  Where are you going in a cab?”


“I’m not going in a cab.  The cab I am getting is for drinking, you goof.”


“Oh I see.  Now that you are a wine enthusiast, you call it cab.  What do you call Malbec?”


“My fav.”


“There is nothing more snooty than a pseudo wine expert.  I suppose you sniff it before you drink it.”


“I pass on the sniffing.  Besides, what if I didn’t like the smell?  Would I say, bring me a different bottle?  This one is stinky?”


“It’s supposed to be part of the enjoyment of wine tasting.”


“Yeah?  Well, my enjoyment is in the drinking part.”


“I see you bought a petit shiraz today.  What’s that all about?

“I’m 5’4″  They have wine now for short people.”


“I thought you were going to buy thorny rose.”


“My store doesn’t have it….yet.”




“Yeah.  I complained.  Told them it is one ass kicking wine.  Every one in the store stopped, like when Charles Schwab speaks. Dead silence.  The manager had a riot in the making.  She got on the phone and ordered it.”


“My, how you exaggerate, Wolf.”


“That’s it.  I’m getting a cab.”


“You have a bottle in front of you.”


“Not that cab, you idiot, a real cab.  I am going to another liquor store, that carries thorny rose.  It’s all your fault, asking me about thorny.”


“What kind of wine is thorny?”


“Cab, Minnie. Just like life.”




“Life is a cabernet, my chum.”




Oh what a night

“It’s Friday night and the feeling’s right. Oh yeah, it’s Friday night, oh what a night.”


“Once again, Wolf, wrong.  It’s ladies night.”


“Nope.  Ladies night was last night, wasting away again in margaritaville.”


“Friday night is not ladies night. Friday night is for fighting.”


“Nope.  Saturday night is for fighting.”


“What’s Sunday night, then?”


“Who gives a rat’s ass?  Sunday night is the prelude to rainy days and Mondays.  Did you know they always get me down?”


“I love a rainy night.”


“Me too.  But not when I have a parade.”


“Ok.  So is Friday night your favorite night of the week?”


“No. I like ladies night.  That’s Monday.”


“Who has ladies night on Monday?  No one goes out on Mondays.”


“I do.”


“You are no lady.”


“And I love ladies night on Tuesday.”


“What the hell?  Is every night ladies night?”


“It is for this cowgirl.”


“You are no cowgirl.”


“Ride a cowboy, save a horse.”


“What about Wednesday night?”


“Ladies night.  I’d walk a mile for a camel.  I am wild for those humps.”


“Not every night can be ladies night, Wolf.  What’s up for tonight?”


“What day is it?”




“My camel is fried, Minnie.  Get it? Fried day?  I’m exhausted.  I am not going out.  I am staying home and chilling.”




“Yeah. The wine.  After all, it’s Friday night and the feelings right.”






Give it one for the gipper

“Hey, Wolf,  you look pretty awful.  Are you still in pain?”


“I like looking like the walking dead.  Of course, I am.”


“What’s your plan?”


“Positive attitude.  If I think I am ok, I will be ok.”


“What if that bladder of yours erupts?  Or those stones get lodged and blow you up?  Or the wine starts to ferment in your system and you dissolve?”


“I prefer to look on the bright side, Minnie.  I think I will eat a can of cashews and see what happens.”


“What the hell?”


“Bring it on.  That’s my new theory.  Besides, I like cashews.”


“Death wish?”


“Can you think of a better way to go than death by cashews?”


“You could call an exorcist.  You might be infected by Satan.”


“Let’s talk about something else.  I prefer to suffer in silence.  Satan hates martyrs.  And so do I.”


“Seems to me that you are bloated beyond reason, that your gall bladder is a time bomb, that your kidneys are the beans in your chili,  and that, as they say, you are a grotesque replica of the hunch back of Notre Dame.”


“Who says that?”


“The Gipper.”


“Oh him.  To hell with the gipper.  He is on vacation this week.”


“He is?”


“Yeah, teacher.  How you hitting them?  Senior Scott.  How you doing?”


“What the hell does that mean?'”


“Nobody knows.  Except, of course, for the gipper.”