Tomorrow is Assumption Day, I Ask Just What They Celebrate

The following is all true. I swear, seriously

There I was, sitting at Connie Mac's, outside, under the fan, sweating. Brian was inside playing the same songs he always does on the Touch Tunes.

I take a mouthful of my beer, and then, as if he materialized from the overhead lights, Pete appears. He says "hey is this chair taken?" I take the cigarette from my mouth and say, "no man, have at it," thinking Pete plans to take the chair to a nearby table. Fortunately Pete sits down across the table from me.

He orders a pitcher of Miller Light and offers to buy me a beer.

"No thanks, I'm straight man" I say. (I am straight, but more accurately, I am unintentionally celibate.)

"My buddy is coming up, he is going to sit with us" he replies.

He asks, "What do you think of the Eagles chances to make the Super Bowl?"

I tell him I don't know who the Eagles are.

He asks what sport I do like. I tell him I like baseball, and he mentions the Phillie's 10,000 loses. I can tell this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Brian comes back to the table and sits down. Soon Pete's friend Kevin shows up, but everybody calls Kevin "Graham."

Pete wears a blue t-shirt which he accessorizes with a flashy fake gold chain, which hangs down, resting delicately on his man boobs. Graham wears a light blue, maybe sea foam, Polo t-shirt with an unbuttoned, striped, short sleeve shirt, over top.

Mike shows up and sits down with us. Pete and Graham introduce themselves. The deck sags beneath their hard earned girth. Between the two of them they must weigh six hundred pounds, and, let us be honest, that is no small feat.

My mind wanders as I think how close, they alone, must be pushing the chicken towards the endangered species list, due to their frequent visits to the KFC and obvious love of Buffalo style wings.

Is the blue pallet of their clothing a subtle homage to blue cheese, I wonder?

And I am awoken from my day dreaming as Pete, obviously realizing the gravity of this meeting, begins to speak, drop knowledge, as it were.

"You ever get pussy hair caught in your teeth?" he asks.

Sartre, Kierkegaard, Pete; a triumvirate of noble philosophers, I think.

But Pete continues, "I remember this girl I had homeroom with, she used to give me the biggest fucking boner. She never licked my dick though, not until like ten years later, then she licked my dick. Said she always wanted to lick my dick when we were in high school, but I was always too scared to talk to her. I told her I always wanted to eat her pussy. Seriously guys I love eating pussy."

Pete begins to meow at every girl that walks by. Pete is a true egalitarian; he meows at every girl, regardless of age, weight or skin color. In this way he shows us how to live, if Pete were to have a credo, no doubt it would be; Pussy is Pussy.

As the evening winds down Pete continues to imbibe, the conversation shifts to the arts. Kessler shows up and adds his homo/douchebagery flair to the conversation. We talk about recent achievements in American cinema and Pete mentions the film he currently has in production.

"It's called Raise the Dead," he tells us. "I faxed in the title last week. I'm filming it entirely on my cell phone. Pictures and shit are making my cell bill like seven hundred dollars a month"

We all stop to reflect on the price we pay for our art. I break the silence by asking Pete, "what genre is this film?"

Pete replies, "I'm not sure yet, I'm thinking 391 maybe 344."

"391 is my favorite genre Pete, 344 is my second favorite, but 391, brilliant."

And then I left. Will I ever see Pete again? God willing, god willing.

EAD