Day CCLXXII

Sick George

     “Watzit, an when she wannit?”

     “It’s a beauty parlah ova on Webstah, and she wants a bunch a bangles.”

     “If I gots em, I take em ova, tell me watcha gots!”

     “I owes ya big time Chino!”

  

    He made my week, took care of the delivery, I was able to at least earn a small commission, and gain an account. But I had to get my strength back, and recuperate. I didn’t want go out anywhere. I called George, and he too had slept more than thirty hours. I told him about Morgana, and how she didn’t want to see anybody from the bar, and most especially him.

     “I guess she’s one dat got away, uh dude,” was his response.

     “Haw haw haw…guess so, man.”

     “So watcha dooning, man?”

     “Man, I don’t wanna do nathan, just gon watch wat eva be on TV, eat, drink, and sleep some mo, ya dig!”

     “I hea ya, man, I’ll probably be doing da same.”

     “I’ll catcha when I see ya, then.”

    That’s what he said, but knowing him, he was out that night. The man was a satyr, he just had to have female company every night. Some of whom weren’t so hot looking when he saw them in the morning. I wouldn’t have been surprised if in a hard up moment, he wouldn’t have done a dude. Some cats aren’t very particular with whom they jump in a bed. He was so sick he would have done a hole in a wall to get over. But that was him, and me, I stopped smoking again, or so methunk.