12 Jul “You know that from the get go–the point of this blog has been for Joe in Arkansas.”
HR pauses; I think he´s going to make a joke.
“Joe Mama”, the writer says as he slams his taza on the table.
HR pauses; that was SLIGHLTY funny–when´s dad getting back?
“Joe problems ain´t mine?”, HR asks as she grimmaces.
“Oh”, the writer says as he reaches over for a napkin to clean up the spilled coffee, “that was a good one.”
“Joe don´t know me?”, HR replies as she bites her lower lip, “Joe in Arkansas is going to make a poor life choice tonight?”
“Probably”, the writer replies as he wipes up the mess on the table, “so I think it´s important that Joe knows the blog.“
HR chuckles; that one was ACTUALLY kinda funny.
The writer pauses; she´s really digging my jokes.
“Joe want to grab a coffee sometime?”, he asks HR as turns his head to look out the window, then back to her.
“A cup of Joe?”, HR replies as she chuckles; when is dad getting back?
“You know”, she continues talking as she picks up her taza, “I´m busy.”
He pauses; that was my best joke…. my Joe joke, I call it. You know… I think I´m funny… at least, mildly entertaining… at times, Joe finds it funny… Joe Mamma. The writer chuckles then turns his head back to HR´s seat.
“Where´d she go?”, he asks as he stares at the empty chair.
“Yeah dad”, HR says at the kitchen table as reaches over for the palomitas, “don´t leave me alone with that dude, again? Ok?”
“What happened?”, I ask as I recline my chair.
“He made a couple jokes–Joe jokes–and I laughed, and then he asked me for a coffee”, she replies as she leans forward and picks up her taza, “I don´t appreciate it.”
I pause; yeah, that´s him–that dude.
“So are you going to grab a coffee with him?”, I ask as I grimmace; I don´t think it´s a good fit.
“No”, she replies, “so anyways–where did you go?”
“Your mom texted me that there was an emergency at work and she needed the spacejet. I´m sorry–I rushed out. I COMPLETELY forget that you were still there.”
“Well”, she says as she takes a sip of coffee and sets down her taza, “I think it´s rude–but, I understand.”
“Yeah”, I reply as I take a sip of coffee, “it was your momma–or should I say… Joe Mamma?”
I chuckle; HR chuckles; the dog tilts his head.
“So”, I ask as I get up from the table, “what do you want to eat for dinner?”
“How about digitalbrocoli?”
We hear the front door open; footsteps in the hallway.
My wife comes in to the kitchen.
“Hey–I picked up a pizza on the way home.”
I wipe my forehead with my hand.
“That was close–we were about to eat healthy. You´re our hero.”
“Don´t thank me”, my wife says as she sets the food on the table, “thank Joe.”
“Joe credit card”, she replies as she opens the box and grabs a slice, “you paid for it. Or, should I say Joe paid.”
I look out the window; I turn my head back to her; I turn to HR; what´s going on here?
“Yeah”, my wife replies as she opens the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of soda, “HR texted me that you left her at the cafe with Joe writer.”
“Joe better think better next time.”
I pause; she thinks she´s funny.
I pretend to laugh, “Ha.ha.ha.”
The dog tilts his head in the corner. I turn my head to him.
“You could at least pretend that I´m funny… or slightly amusing… entertaining, a bit?”
I open the box of food; I grab a slice.
“Ok”, I tell myself as I pull out my chair at the table, “no more thinking.”
I bite into the hot slice; this is delicious.
“Where´d you get this from?”
“Joe Pizza”, my wife replies.
“Ha. ha. ha.”, I reply, “but no really? It´s delicious.”
She pauses; can I just eat one meal, one time, without 10 million questions?
“Nope”, she replies as she takes a sip of soda, “that´s actually what´s it called. So anyways?”
“Um”, I reply as I take another bite, “thanks!”