RED FIRE SMOKING ANTS

Thursday, October 1, 2009

J: "Why are you looking so sad, M?"

M: "My cockatiel died. Rocky... He was 12 years old."

J: "Oh no. I'm sorry to hear that. Are you OK?"

M: "The house is so quiet. Now who's gonna whistle when I walk through the door?"

J: "What do you think Rocky would have rated himself on a scale of 1-10?"

M: "12."

J: "What about your chihuahua?"

M: "15."

J: "15?"

M: "Oh yeah. He'd be all, '1-10 isn't enough.'"

J: "Based on that... how would you rate yourself?"

M: "3."

J: "No... What do you really rate yourself?"

M: "3."

J: "Why a 3?"

M: "Why, Jake? Where do I start?" (Long pause with a cold stare.) "Do you really want me to sit here and answer that?"

J: (Thinking about it for a minute.) "No."

M: "Didn't think so."

M.'s birthday is next Tuesday so she's taking the entire week off. Today is the last day we'll see each other until October 12th. I didn't even bring in her present.

M: "Do you want some advice, Jake?"

J: "Don't sniff red fire ants?"

M: "Oh, OK... So no matter what I do, do not sniff red ants."

J: "Red fire ants."

M: "Will it kill me?"

J: "It will hurt really bad. Wait! It will kill you. I saw the re-enactment on "1,000 Ways to Die."

M: "You're just saying that because you snort flies."

Not really. I was sitting at my desk yesterday when I saw a fly twirl just under my nose. It flew up into my nostril, into my mouth and down the back of my throat. I coughed a few times but nothing came out. I didn't want to snort the fly, it just happened. And it was a very unpleasant experience.

J: "That isn't the same-"

M: "Picture me sitting here smoking a cigarette. Would I have any right to tell you not to smoke?"

J: "You don't smoke."

M: "Pretend that I do. Imagine me sitting here right now smoking. Does that give me any right to tell you not to smoke?"

J: "That's irrelevant."

M: "Oh, it's relevant."

J: "That's like me saying if I fell down and smashed my face on the pavement would I have any right to get up and tell you not to fall down and smash your face?"

M: "Jake, that doesn't make any sense. You're comparing smashing your face on the pavement to smoking a cigarette?"

J: "No, I'm asking you what cigarettes have to do with red fire ants?"

M: "If you throw your cigarette butt on the ground, ants come and carry it into their home. That's how it relates."

J: "What does that have to do with snorting fire ants?"

M: "I have aunts who smoke. I don't know why you can't see the relevance. Just because you snort flies, Jake. Not everybody snorts flies."

J: "M., we only have 1 hour left before I leave and I won't see you at all next week, not even for your birthday. Is this really how you want to spend the afternoon? Arguing about ants?"

M: "I want a Hallmark."