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September 21, 2007
“Tehrrewassasumpinyouhadtodo?” He’s slurring; some of the lager tipples onto his shoes.
“Drive you home?” I suggest.
“Hey, I can drive my Lexus.”
“Yeah, into a tree.”
“HA!” He says, “That’s why you’re my work wife.” He goes to give me a noogie, but for the sake of sparing myself a drunk cliché, I maneuver his arm over my shoulder to help him stand instead.
“Troy, I already blew off my godson’s Little League tonight. I need to get home before Ben leaves.”
“Pssht. Yeah. Last time he left he ended up in Spain.”
“I meant before he left for work.”