An After Easter Story

Not A Catfish

I became involved in this group chat with a bunch of guys I didn’t know, mainly because I was bored, lonely and depressed. I know that sounds desperate. But it’s better than having phone sex with a 300-pound woman named Lulu.

            One of these guys got my number off a bathroom stall. It wasn’t any bathroom stall. It was a toilet at the Premium Outlets mall.  He then accidentally, or perhaps intentionally added my number to the group chat. I started reading the messages going back and forth. I found these guys to be quite entertaining.

            Definitely more entertaining, than the phone sex lady. All she ever said was… Well…let’s not go into that now.

            Well one of the guys, Tom Dini, is from Rochester, New York. He texted me that his sister-in-law mixed him a couple of Negronis for Easter Sunday.

            Negronis were among American writer Ernest Hemingway’s favorite libations. And boy, Hemingway sure did like his libations. Tom says he understands now how Hemingway became such a raging alcoholic.

            Of course, Hemingway shot himself in the head, at home while his wife was asleep upstairs. All Hemingway ever did was write many of America’s greatest novels: “The Old Man And The Sea,” “For Whom The Bells Tolls,” “A Farewell To Arms,” and “The Sun Also Rises.” Underachiever that Hemingway. He also won the Nobel Prize in Literature. Anybody could do that.

            So much for Hemingway. Back to someone more important, Tom. It’s Easter Sunday and Tom continues to party in memory of Hemingway.

            That’s when some guy with a 541 area code joins the chat.

             “What’s a Negroni,” he asks.

            I admit, I too am an ignorant, uncultured bastard. I have no idea what a Negroni is.

            “Compari, gin, sweet vermouth and a twist of orange. A bit of heaven on earth right there,” says Tom.

            Some guy with a 508 area code pipes in.

            “One of my favorites after a Manhattan.”

A Manhattan is made with rye whiskey, sweet vermouth and bitters. I wonder how they get the rye seeds out of the whiskey. Sounds labor intensive. I don’t know anything about the art of mixology. I am too uncouth to drink anything with vermouth.

            The only thing I know a little about, are edibles. And I don’t even eat them. I got them at the dispensary. I wanted to see how the grandkids would react, when I mixed the edibles in with the Easter gummies.

Now their mother, Bianca, and my wife, Brenda, are all mad at me. Sick bastard that I am, I just wanted to see if the THC from the edibles, offset the sugar high from the Easter candy. The gummies have kicked in. The kids are quietly watching videos.

Now a second guy named Tom jumps in the chat. He sends a photo of himself with powder blue bunny ears and a matching bowtie. It turns out his name is Tom Cambareri.

Not A Pedophile

I don’t think he’s a pedophile. Looks like a good guy. He just hamming it up for the camera. In the photo he sticks out his front teeth like a rabbit who needs orthodontia. He took his grandkids to church and filled the pockets of his sports coat with chocolate foil eggs to keep them from getting bored. He must be a good guy.

Last time I went to church, was when my wife made me go. I stuffed a couple of cans of beer in my sports coat pocket. My wife didn’t know. It pissed off the pastor though.

Tom Dini says he’s busy at work on his first novel. I hope you guys buy it. In the tradition of Hemingway, it’s going to be a great one. The working title is “The  Negroni Also Rises.”