Last night, I met Bonnie and Greg at the Monkey Club for drinks. We were soon joined by Joe who immediately met Katy at the bar and invited her to join us. Katy is delightful and writes a column about San Francisco nightlife for SF Weekly. Katy also works with developmentally disabled adults in Marin, whom she affectionately refers to as “my retarded friends.”
We were hanging out, having a marvelous time, when I suddenly got the bright idea that we needed to prank call someone. Katy riffles through her bag and produces a phone number she got from “some guy.” Scrawled on a post it with “You’re a winner!” printed on the back, there appeared to the name “John” and a phone number. I pulled out my phone and immediately called “John.”
After attempting to remind John of our life-changing one night stand, he rebuffed my advances. “Well, maybe you were drunk and that’s why you don’t remember me.” I screamed into the phone.
“I haven’t had a drink in 20 years!” he screamed back.
“Bullshit. You were wasted and you know it.”
Finally, John was ready to end our conversation. “All right, John.” I screamed over the reggae. “You’re a winner!”
I slam down my phone as Katy leans over. “I just remembered where I got that number. I was at the Salvation Army with one of my retards. I was buying this futon and I needed to someone to carry it home. My retard knew of a guy named John who might be able to help me. So, basically, John is a friend of a retard.”
Well, Katy, my new best friend, welcome to the circle. Care to add some more retards to the mix…