Two Women And A Pitchfork

Slacking @ Yak’s, Part 3

I was quiet during my third beer. It was either time to go home or give in. I checked my iPhone to make sure that I didn’t have a conference call in the morning. Already, I was fretting about some of the things left on my to-do list.

Duke got up to get another round. I leaned over and asked Dee, “Do you think Dr. Marty is .. um .. weird?”

I had asked Dee this question right after the first meeting. She had simply said, “That was just the first meeting. Give it some time.”

This time, she said, “Don’t worry.”

“He’s as a crackpot,” I said.

“Relax.”

I smiled. Dr. Marty was my idea, and she was defensive. Irony tastes funny.

“Do you know what it’s like to find a good life coach?” I asked.

“I’ve never tried to find one,” Dee said.

C added, “I’ve been to some personal growth seminars.”

“I tried to talk to several people,” I said. “The one I did talk to was Dr. Marty.”

Dee said, “So you talked to exactly one?”

“His web site is a pile of shit, but one of my clients swears by him. Dr. Marty was even hired by his company.”

C said, “A company that needs a life coach?”

Dee smile at C and then smiled at me. “So you just took his advice?” she asked.

“No. Of course not.” I said.

Dee said, “You’re funny when you’re impulsive.”

“When I talked to Dr. Marty, he was direct and no nonsense. There was nothing funny about him. He was clear about his role and how he could help.”

“He can help,” Dee said.

I said, “He’s a nut.”

“Nah,” Dee said. “And I like his mustache.”

C thought this answer was funny, so I stared at her for a second.

I said, “It’s bushy.”

Dee asked, “How are you doing on the assignment?”

C asked, “Which assignment?”

I had wanted a moment of peace and to know that Dee thought Dr. Marty was weird, too. Instead, I was the embattled minority.

There was only one that involved any real doing.

“The my-imaginary-friend assignment,” I said, as Duke handed me another beer. For his benefit, I continued, “I haven’t had an imaginary friend since Rachel Hunter. Or was it Elle Macpherson? I’m still so angry at mom for throwing out my Sports Illustrated.”

Dee said, “Kathy Ireland was my favorite.”

C quickly added, “Hey Dee, maybe she should be your imaginary person.”

“She could be mine any day,” I said. Of course she could.

“No,” Dee said, “You’re stuck with a dude and his pitch fork.”

“That’s a party I want to go to!” Duke said. He spilled foamy beer down his shirt. “Can I invite my new friend?”

…continued

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Slacking @ Yak’s

Part 3: Two Women And A Pitchfork
Part 2: Assignments?
Part 1: Yakking The Porno Mustache