Just a Matter of Time?

by Daddy X

I once heard that the measure of a friend is whether or not they’d send you money if you were in trouble on the other side of the world. That was a pretty good gauge until those Nigerian princes came along. One good way to tell is by how long you can ride in a car in silence with somebody and not feel awkward or uncomfortable.

How much time could you spend alone with your best friend? In a car? On a long bus ride? As roommates? Could it be that the closeness of our friendships can be measured by how much time we can stand to be around each other? When dealing with others, we have to make compromises.  Are those compromises worth it?

Did that woman you dated have a shrill voice? God, the staff must have heard her in the kitchen complaining about the food. All fucking night long. So sharp, my ears rang for hours. So embarrassing.

Was that dude for real? I couldn’t wait to get away from that asshole. It was the lunch from Hades!

Then there are friends we are perfectly happy to be with. But a couple of hours tends to be enough. Some we’d have to think about taking along on a vacation.  For a weekend, anyway. Wouldn’t want it to be a longer trip. Except for the Jamison’s. I’ll bet we could even go to the Jamison’s cabin and stay with them all summer. They’re so gracious.

So there are those we can have a short conversation with, those we can spend a day with, and those we can take a vacation with.

And then there are those we choose to live our lives with. All of it. Those we can wake with each day, who can stick beside us all day, every day.   

Yeah, that’s the ultimate friendship.

                                                          ...

And now, to get that sappy taste out of your mouth, here’s a bit of filth to gargle with.

Enter our favorite idiots, Hank and Delbert, best of friends:

                                                  C’mon Over

Brinnnnggg-

“Hello?”

“Yo, Hank—it’s me, Del.”

“What is it this time?”

“You should see the chick I got over here, man. Total nympho.”

“She’s over there now?”

“Yeah man. C’mon over. You won’t believe this shit. Met her at that bar outside town. She was blowing guys behind the pool table.”

“She’s still at your place? She didn’t run away screaming when she walked in that shithole?”

“What’s that?”

“You’re not the greatest housekeeper, after all.”

“Aw, that’s cold, man. Here I am, offering you this fine piece of ass, and you do me like that? Some fucking nerve. Besides, she was pretty drunk, and I already fucked her in a toilet stall for chrissakes.”

“Ah, so now it comes out. You took advantage of another one, didn’t you?”

“She wasn’t that drunk; at least not at first.”

“And what about later? You fucked her all night, didn’t you?”

“Yep. As many times as I wanted, every hole. Jerked off in her hair too. She just slept through it all.”

“You fucked an unconscious woman? What the fuck’s wrong with you, Del? What she say when she woke up?”

“She ain’t up yet.”

“I’ll be right over.”

                                                                 ...

This flasher was chosen for the ERWA Summer Gallery, along with “Carnival Ride,” a story that has its roots in autobiography.