Fernwood Klank was deep into his scotch when he heard her voice. “Did just have a relationship?”
It was 3 pm on a freezing winter day. Unemployed and depressed, Fernwood had locked himself out of the house early this morning while checking for the mail. He’d walked 5 blocks to the bar, in nothing but a t-shirt, pyjama pants and still-soaking wet slippers.
He gazed at the beautiful young waitress, struck dumb by her words. Several stunned seconds passed before he replied, simply: “Uh… yes, I did… and I loved her. But she left me for another guy. And now I’m locked out of my house with no-one to love me.”
A moment passed, and he realized the loving gaze he’d imagined was actually more of a wide-eye what-the-fuck sort of thing.
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She slowly shook her head no. “I said really big shit.”
He looked down. And he had.
