“You know that from the get go–the point of this blog has been for Joe in Arkansas.”

“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?”

I pause.

“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?”

“Sounds good.”

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.”

I pause.

“Joe Mamma?”

“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.”

She pauses.

“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?”

I pause.

“Um”, I reply as I take another bite, “thanks!”



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