Friends Are Thicker Than Water

It was seven o’clock. It was raining and I was late. The windshield wipers could hardly keep up with the driving downpour. I hurried into the driveway. My heart was pounding as I gathered up the heavy case of three-ply stainless steel pots and pans for my biggest demonstration. I knocked on the door; it flung open and I could hear the excited voices of six women sitting in the room. I was going to be center stage for the evening, with my dazzling culinary presentation. “Come on, Mikey. We were wondering if you were even going to make it in this weather, but of course, a little rain couldn’t stop our guys from going bowling as usual tonight.” “Sit down,” said the excited hostess, “and have some Hors d’oeuvres.” “No thanks,” I said holding my hand on my stomach. “My mother fixed pork chops and sauerkraut tonight and I ate more than my share, especially the sauerkraut.” I was all set, ready to go. The moment I started my presentation, all the girls gathered closer around me. I knew this was going to be a good sale by the smiles on their faces. They were ready for a good time and they were already asking leading questions. All of a sudden I could feel my mother’s sauerkraut moving its way through my intestines, and crawling like a German soldier behind enemy lines. “Ladies, before I really get into this, could you direct me to the bathroom?” The hostess said, “The lavatory is right behind you.” As I stood up, the cramps attacked. It was a bayonet to the solar plexus, direct and excruciating cramps. Once inside the tiny bathroom, I pushed the door to seal it. My forehead was dotted with sweat. Now my stomach was rolling like a Sherman tank out of control. What followed could only be compared to the Battle of the Bulge. BING, BANG, BOOM! I EXPLODED!! The voices beyond quieted. The battle echoed through the walls and a purple cloud began to engulf the small area. Surely, my malady would be discovered when the barrier was unsealed and I re-entered the room. I had to do something. I had to think fast. I threw open the window; it wasn’t enough. Air freshener–air freshener–air freshener. I frantically searched for something to dilute the air–something, anything to dilute the air. Medicine cabinet–nothing. Under the sink–nothing. I threw open the shower curtain. Damn. I had to do something. I went back to the medicine cabinet and found myself staring at the door, with a bottle of Old Spice After-Shave Lotion in my hand. I pulled the pop top…SPLAT! SPLAT! As I thrust it against the walls–SPLAT on the mirror. SPLAT in the air and on the ceiling. The panic increased inside me. It had to be enough. Frantically, I splattered up, down and around the room. The last splat misfired and was a direct hit in my right eye. “Jesus, I’m hit. I’m hit! I’m going down. I’m going down.” I yelled out loud, “YIKES!” The burn engulfed my eye socket and numbed the side of my face. I found the sink and began to flush my eye. The sting and burn began to ease and my vision returned. I shut off the running water. It was deathly quiet. There was a knock on the door, “You okay in there? You okay, Mikey?” I could hardly speak, but managed to say, “Ah–yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.” After several more taps on the door, I got myself presentable. I had been in there an entire hour. I meekly emerged with my bloodshot, watery, red eye protruding from my face. I couldn’t keep it open and as I started to become more focused I noticed the room was empty. “I’m ready to show the cookware. Would everyone please come back in and take a seat.” The disappointed hostess replied, “It’s too late now. They had to go.” I apologized, saying, “Sorry. I wasn’t feeling well. Can we set up another appointment?” “We’ll let you know,” she said in a soft voice. I thought, “Six hot leads down the drain. Literally down the drain!” I never got another opportunity to show the cookware to this particular group of girls. After that incident, I never ate sauerkraut again before going on a sales call–but I do use Old Spice After-Shave!