A Not Short Enough Exchange on Super Bowl Sunday
“Is the Super Bowl today?”
Against better judgment, I lift my head.
“Hmm, that look on your face tells me you don’t know.”
Or I’m trying to convey the “…” message.
“So I’ll take it you’re not a football fan?”
Is this really happening to me?
“I guess you’re probably thinking I’m in the wrong place.”
Uh-oh, I’ve captured the attention of a clever one.
“Are you deaf or mute or something?”
Hmm, I could play this to my advantage.
He chuckles at himself, charmed by his own wit and says, “Hell, it’s alright with me. Women should be seen and not heard, right?”
A jab with the sole purpose of inciting a reaction.
“So, you won’t talk no matter what I say, eh?”
Looks like he is a bit more astute than I gave him credit for.
“My name’s Greg.”
I hold back the sigh of exasperation threatening my throat.
“What’s that book you’re reading?”
Ah, yes. The world from which I’ve been ripped by this man’s banal attempt at conversation.
“Just a stuck up bitch, huh? Well excuse me for living.”
Now here’s something I can manage a reply to. “You’re excused.”
“Wanna join me for some bottles of Bud and some football?”
Nope, shouldn’t have said anything. That’ll teach me.
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