Liscense Plates and Chickens

Yesterday evening I was headed to my friend Rob's place to participate in the ancient American pastime, pizza and a movie[s]. The drive there was quite peculiar. During my ten minute drive to his home, my eye never caught the view of a Louisiana license plate. There was Alabama, Texas, Tennessee, Mississippi, and even Indiana. The thought did run across my mind that those plates probably belonged to out of state visitors helping out with the hurricane efforts, but damn, it was quite peculiar.


This morning a young gentleman arrived to my house to set up an internet router that was purchased so I could get the internet on my IBook. The young gentleman was quite cute.

"Hi. I went to your neighbor's house thinking the address was 1117."

Mmm...Glad ya found it.
"I'm pretty sure I wrote 1113."

"No, you did. My bad."

"Well let me show you to the spare room."

Small talk, small talk, followed by me pulling up my screen on our Dell.

"Cool screen saver, Batman Begins. Definitely the best Batman film, and the best movie this year."

My ears perk up.
"If you like that, you should see the poster I have of that image. It's, well, just rolled up in a tube for the past five months..."

Once again, I'm irritated over how I can't afford to frame one hell of a poster. Damn 1/10 of an inch...

Followed by once again, small talk about Batman, my IBook, and our education. Also followed by my thoughts of:

"Damn this guy's cute. Looks like Jimmy Fallon a little, but heck... I wonder if they could date a customer?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out."

"But he's probably seeing someone. Cute guy, friendly demeanor, and pulling in, my guess, a hefty paycheck each week."

Enter computer jabber, how this works, how that works, how bad it is to have limewire on my computer (followed by a Napster suggestion. Apparently those sharing programs can end up having yo share more than music...) and more small talk.

"I bet you're wondering how is it that "this guy" can type so fast. Apparently those lonely Saturday nights are paying off."

"Oh look, he made a joke about 'lonely Saturday nights, how 'bout that."

"..."

"Well, like I said there's only one way to find out."

"And that's it. You're all set to go."

"Thanks a lot. "

We head out the room to the door. No, not that door, that's the garage door, yeah, that one."

"Oh look," he says, spotting my Nova, followed by him bending down, totally transfixed by the powers of a house-cat.

"Here's your chance!! Here's your chance!! Just ask him, ya chicken shit!!"

"Thanks a lot again."

We shake hands and he flashes one heck of a smile.

I wave him off, he waves back.

The door closes.

Ya chicken shit...