It all started out as an unusual Thursday in an unusual series of events.
The first thing occurred when I got to work. The office was abuzz with the scandal about one of the senior vice presidents being caught in the conference room the night before with one of the young girls from the secretarial pool. It wasn't really much of a scandal, she was an adult and he was old enough to have been an adult three times over. They were both single. He was handsome and she was hot. Really, the only question was who was taking advantage of whom.
Then Marvin Epstein and I got stuck in a meeting that ran on and on and on. It was after 2:30 when we finally got to go to lunch. When we broke out our sandwiches his mouth watered when he saw my ham and cheese. He explained that he loved ham, but since he was Jewish his new wife wouldn't give it to him. I took pity on him and we ended up swapping, my ham for his chicken salad.
The rest of the day plodded slowly along. At 5:30 I found myself on the bus on my way home. I was just sitting there with my hat in my lap, and the briefcase I use to carry my lunch at my feet. I was almost asleep, my head nodding back and forth with the swaying of the bus, when I began to get an unusual feeling in the lower part of my body. It was something I hadn't experienced in well over two years so I wasn't quite sure what it was.
All at once I knew! Very carefully I raised my hat to see a wondrous lump in my trousers. I pushed the hat back to cover this phenomenon and looked around the bus. No one was watching. Cautiously, I peeked under the hat again. It was still there! Quickly I covered it and slid my left hand into my pocket. I was delighted to find the thing, big as a screwdriver and hard as a hoe handle.
I was ecstatic! It had been over two years since such a thing had happened to me. I needed to show it to somebody, anybody. Again, I looked around the bus, but most of the passengers were men. The only two women were sitting together on a seat by the driver. That wouldn't do.
Then it hit me! My wife, I would show it to my wife! I smiled to myself as I held my hand on it in my pocket the rest of the way to my stop. When we got there it was like a slapstick comedy, holding my hat in front of me, fumbling with my briefcase, and trying to ring the bell for my stop using only one hand. I lurched down the aisle until I got to the rear door.
The bus finally spit me out onto the sidewalk a block and a half from my home. I know I looked strange when I took off running; my tie blowing over my shoulder, my hat askew on my head, my briefcase in my right hand, and my left hand in my pocket clutching my treasure.
When I got to my house, I dropped my briefcase and opened the front door. I charged in shouting, "Gladys, Gladys, where are you? I want to show you something!"
Her voice came from the living room, "I'm in here, Stanley."
I sprinted in, yelling, "Look Gladys! Look at this!"
I was greeted with shrieks! "Oh my God, Stanley, put that thing away! My sister Phyllis is here!"
Phyllis was standing just behind my wife. Her eyes were big, her mouth open, and her hand was palm out in front of it like she was stifling a scream.
I backed out of the room, obeying her command with my ego deflated. I couldn't help but wonder what was going on when I discovered it was only my ego that was deflated. Anyway, I stayed out of everybody's way until dinnertime.
Dinner was uncomfortable and very quiet. I was at the head of the table while Gladys was directly opposite me. Phyllis was to my left with her back to the kitchen. Neither one had looked at me or said a word since the incident in the living room.
Phyllis picked up a bread stick and started to nibble on it. Suddenly, her eyes got big, her face got red and she dropped the bread stick like it was a hot poker. She covered it with her napkin, excused herself, and with a sob bolted for the kitchen door. Gladys followed, glaring at me.
I was uncomfortable for her. I liked Phyllis a lot. She was a widow and three or four years older than Gladys. Her husband had died quite some time ago and left her well-heeled. She lived in a big house with a pool in a posh subdivision in our town. She seldom stayed home, instead spending most of her time visiting one of her three siblings or one of her four children and grandchildren that she was spoiling.
My napkin was on my lap, not doing a very good job of covering my bulge. I didn't mind. As embarrassed as I was, I was secretly quite proud of my accomplishment. Now the question was, "What was I going to do with it?" I'm not sure I could count on Gladys and the only other woman I knew was Phyllis. I sure didn't want to waste it on her.
I was pondering this as I was finishing my spaghetti. Suddenly Gladys loomed over me, took the fork out of my hand, picked up the dish with a couple of bites of spaghetti left, and took them back into the kitchen. I had the feeling she would have slammed the door if there had been one.
