Friday, November 14, 2008

Here Comes the Jerry! Jerry! Moment

...we awake to birds chirping and the sun shining through the shades. PJs intact and all was rosy. Fireman and I talked about how nice it was to feel so comfortable with each other and how it seemed weird that, though we'd been talking all along, this was just the second time we were together face-to-face. Molly was still snugly tucked in on the couch. Oh - and if you're wondering what happened to Fireman's friend, the reading wonder, he walked home. Barefoot. He couldn't find his shoes. Which were sitting by the door.

SLAM. It came from outside. Immediately panic crossed Fireman's face, but his voice seemed
calm when he said, "Hmm, wonder what that is." He turned to look out the window above the head of the bed and his face dropped completely.

"Stay here. Whatever you do, stay in this room." Sweet Jesus, really? You couldn't have given me more warning? A sign that this was going to turn south - fast?

"It's my ex girlfriend."

Ahhh those three magical words every girl dreams of hearing. Wait. That's not right...

"She'll try to hurt you."

Then BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM. Christ Almighty - was it Bigfoot? No, it was the ex. Fireman, clad in his Old Navy America Flag t-shirt (yep) and mesh shorts, opened the bedroom door just before she huffed, puffed and blew it down.

I sat on the bed with Fireman's dog - with two dilemmas: 1) do I laugh or cry and 2) should I run to the bathroom or the closet? I chose to not move and listen carefully. This chick was pissed.

He pled with her not to go in the bedroom. She pounded on him – yup I could hear it. "Who is in there? Who the FUCK is in there?" And then...the door flew open. The dog was shaking, I was sitting there with no flippin idea about what I'm supposed to do. She sumo-stanced her way into the room. Her face dropped and I saw her heart break. I decided then and there that if she tried to beat me up, I would let her. I would just curl up in the fetal position and let her pummel me.

"Who the hell are you?"

My mind raced - I was trying to remember my name while taking inventory of Fireman's ex. She looked like she just leapt off Springer’s stage in Chicago and hitched all the way to Wayland, Massachusetts – leaving damaged midgets, cheaters and the sexually confused in her massive wake. I was surprised her bangs weren’t feathered…probably just a casualty from the long voyage.


“How long has this been going on?” This chick was harboring more rage than an unjustly imprisoned convict (yeah, there’s a story there).

Now, this was a bit of a trick question. If it just started – then I’m a whore for being in bed with him. If I’ve been talking to him for a few months – then her heart would literally stop beating. If I say it's none of herbusiness – then she would stop my heart from beating.

“Uhh not long?”

“Well, I hope you used a condom!

Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!

“It’s not like that!” Ahhh – come on Fireman – aren’t you supposed to rescue people for a living? Step up dude!

Fireman interjected, “Pizzaz, that is totally uncalled for. You have to go. You have to leave now.” Ok, ok her name wasn’t really Pizzaz, but it will suffice for storytelling purposes.

“I’m not going anywhere with out my dog!”

“It’s not your dog,” Fireman remained calm – using a voice I can only imagine was taught to literally speak someone off a ledge. I’m sure that happened often in Wayland.

“IT IS MY DOG – OUR DOG!” She was on fire.

“Let’s talk about this outside.”

“We were going to get back together! We were!”

“No we weren’t – let’s talk about it outside.”

“Fine.” She turned her attention to the dog, who was shaking and now in my lap. “Come on Abby, come on!” The dog didn’t budge.

“I said come on sweetie, it’s ok.” Oh man, the desperation in her voice was going to bring me to tears. “Abby, please baby, come on.”

Yeah Abby, get the hell off me and go to momma! With a little nudge from my leg (it was a covert, undercover op), the dog went to Pizzaz.

She was escorted out. I was shell shocked.

“Uhhh?” It was a quiet, but distinct sound. Holy shit, Molly.


“Are you ok? That was scary.”

“Umm, I think so. Can I come out?”

“I think so – let me look – oh she’s still freaking out. Come see!”

I tip-toed out of the bedroom, zoomed down the stairs and sprinted to the back of the house, where the ex couldn’t spot me.

Molly and I started laughing and she read my mind “Let’s get the hell out of here. What the hell was that?”

Fireman returned, apologizing profusely and saying, “At least she didn’t have a vacuum.”

We had NO idea what he meant by that and weren't about to stick around to find out. And if that weren’t enough, I actually continued talking to him and we dated for a while when I moved back to Boston.

Apparently I can handle a near death experience, but not a guy who is afraid to go past 2nd base after 3 months…

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hillarious! I was chased down by an ex who broke through the window after driving 3 hours to see him on New years eve because "they were getting back together" HA