One of my old spades partners, Randy, had come to visit me as he does every year around my birthday. He comes with a golf club he’s in. They come to Myrtle Beach yearly just after Labor Day. My family and I get together with him and go out to eat dinner at least once while he’s here. That night, we were at Sohos.
While sitting at the restaurant dining, a piece of chicken had dropped on the table. I picked it up and put it on a plate no one was using. My son, Reese, noting my actions said, “What’s wrong with that chicken?”
“It fell on the table,” I answered.
I went on to explain, “You don’t know how well they clean these tables or what someone’s been doing on these table when the place is empty. Especially after all those girls stand up there shaking their asses to the music and the young boys are getting all riled up. For that matter, you don‘t know what me and your father are doing on our table at home either.”
Reese rolls his eyes. “So, it’s okay for you to use your keyboard and mouse while you’re eating something then?”
“What’s wrong with my keyboard and mouse?” I ask as Reese Sr., Randy, and I look at one another somewhat befuddled.
“All that fecal matter that’s on it. You eat finger foods sometimes when you’re at the computer and you touch your keyboard and mouse.”
“There’s fecal matter on my keyboard and mouse? Who’s been shitting on my desk when I’m not home? Is there something you want to tell me, son?” I ask while looking between Randy and my husband.
“Don’t look at me,” Randy says, “I don’t live around here.”
My husband is too busy laughing to respond so I go for his throat and say, “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re taking a shit on my desk when I’m away from home, aren’t you?”
Randy giggles and turns to look out the window. My husband is trying not to draw attention to himself but he’s laughing too much. My son, on the other hand, realizes he just stepped in it (the fecal matter) and tries to recover; poorly too, I might add. I couldn’t wait to get home.
When I came in, I examined my keyboard and mouse closely for any signs of stink. I did take a few DNA samples: got hair off Reese Sr. and Reese’s hair brushes and I made sure when I hugged Randy good-bye, I plucked one of his hairs too. You know, just in case.