so you're saying he never almost landed on the moon and barely survived after the oxygen tanks blew...

Almost as bizarre as the Giants winning another game, 475,389 to 0, I met Big Chris' best friend tonight. I've been hearing about this "Chuckie" for years. Chuckie grew up a block away from Chris, and they've been inseparable since meeting 30 years ago.

Big Chris has never let me meet anyone. I stumbled onto his brother once, Tony or as Chris calls him, "Mr. T." But apparently I caused too much of a scene and have been banned from any further interaction. Oh, and before running into Mr. T. three years ago, I had drinks with two of Chris' friends sometime around 2004, the most surprisingly normal adult men you could hope to meet. They opened doors, they bought my drinks, they asked me about myself, they told funny jokes. It was shocking.

Anyway, tonight I met Chris at the very packed Liberties, and as we watched the game, Chris suddenly and warmly greeted a very normal looking guy.

"Hey Chuck. This is Beth."

Chuckie and I stared at each other for a second.

"I've heard..."

"...so much about you!"

"I know!"

Once again, Chris' friend is the most normal, sane, adult, gentleman. It took 5 seconds for us to become the dearest of friends. It took 10 seconds for us to turn on Big Chris.

According to Chuckie, Chris gets 50% of his stories from stand up acts he watches on Comedy Central in the middle of the night.

"So, you mean the time he told me he cut school this one time and ended up singing in a parade and stole his best friend's dad's Ferrari..."

"And caught a baseball at a Cubs game?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, that didn't happen to him."

Chris pretended he couldn't hear us and stared at the TV.

"She's talking about Ferris Buelher, Chris."

"Fuck you guys."

I cheerfully continued. "And the time he told me he wanted to free Scotland, so he started this war with a bunch of his friends after his wife was murdered because she wouldn't submit to Prima Nocta?"

"Yeah, that actually happened. But to someone else."

"Weird."

"You guys are assholes."

"Okay, but what about the time ghost sightings broke out all over New York City and Chris and his friends developed a technology in which only they could capture and store said ghosts?"

"I believe that was largely pulled from the film Ghostbusters. You ripped off Ghostbusters, dude?"

"I think you both are insane."

Around the eighth inning, Chuckie went home. Chris leaned forward over his beer, "Chuckie's a fucking liar."

"He's so awesome. Why have you been hiding him for so long?"

"I haven't been hiding HIM."

After the game, as we paid our bill, I looked across the table.

"You know who I love?"

And Big Chris looked back at me so sweetly and innocently, I almost couldn't say it.

"Who?" he asked.

Almost.

"Chuckie..."