3/14/03
Dwayne is hairy.
My friend Dwayne's wife is going to be home soon. I'm not very good at recounting the numerous bureaucratic hurdles that Dwayne and Raquel have had to leap over, under and around to get to this point. That's why I'll let you ask Dwayne for any and all details (sluggo5@ameritech.net). However I will tell you that when he called me a few days ago to let Deb and I know the good news and he sounded like a very happy guy.
I've seen Dwayne happy before but this time is a little different. It's the major, life-altering type of happy that is fueled by desire, anticipation and shear joyful giddiness. Kind of the way I get when Debbie asks, "Is there enough stick butter for oatmeal-raisin cookies?"
So, because he never updates his Web page, I thought I'd let you know what's going on with Dwayne. Something new rather than rehash all the old stories you already know. Like the time he farted in the car and I almost puked. I know it's not that good of a story, but it's a memory that I don't seem to be able to shake. Sometimes I lie awake at night and think about what he did to me. I wonder what it was that he ate that decayed to a point that was beyond rot; beyond rancid. Sheer evil leaked out of his intestines that day. I pray you never experience what I went through.
I don't want you to think that Dwayne's little gas fit eight or nine years ago was a defining moment in our friendship. As much as I mention it whenever he's around you'd think that it was. But the truth is there are a myriad other things that make us friends. However I refuse to turn this into some sort of tribute to Dwayne. I'll save that for when he's dead. Which, if he continues to eat thing kinds of things that make him fart the way he sometimes does, should be any day now.
I'm glad that he bought his Harley Davidson. It's really the only safe way to travel with him.
But enough about the man's bowel breeze (I just made that up... heh). The thick, black monkey hair that covers his body is far more distracting. I've showered with Dwayne. I've seen it. So have others and many seem to like it. Particularly a man I met one day in the locker room of the athletic club to which Dwayne and I once belonged. I was alone that day and this man wanted to know where my friend (Dwayne) was. He commented on what good shape Dwayne was in and lamented that his own body would never look as good. Then he proceeded to pull his jeans on without donning any underwear.
I don't have a problem knowing that some people don't wear undies. It's only when I'm witness to this unholy practice that I thank God my mother told me, at age five, that the police arrest little boys that refuse to wear their jockeys. According to my mother's rules, I should have made a citizen's arrest that day in the locker room. The problem is I'm fairly confident this guy came with his own set of handcuffs.
Hopefully I'll see Dwayne soon. We'll work on developing new and better anecdotes to share with you. I'll do my best to ensure that none of them will involve farting or anything else to do with Dwayne's hairy body and its functions.