A Bad Date: A 3 Word Wednesday exercise in fiction

As Sage is preparing to receive his Doctor’s 50th Birthday present tomorrow (the dreaded colonoscopy) Nevada Jack came out of hibernation and participated in this week’s Three Word Wednesday writing exercise. Today’s three words are filthy, guess and convenience. Nevada Jack decided to get inside a women's head and see what her reactions might be to a very bad blind date. The story is fiction and just in case, the names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike.

A Bad Date, by Nevada Jack

Nervously, a woman walks up the sidewalk, stopping to turn into a restaurant. Looking at her reflection in the door, she sweeps her hair back, moistens her lips, and takes a deep breath as she straightens her shoulders and marches in. Once inside, in the dim light, she looks around and notices a single man sitting in the corner. He appears deep in through as he looks into his almost empty wine glass, swirling the last swallow around and around. She steps over to his tabled and asks, “Let me guess, you’re Rob?” He looks up, nods and asks, “What took you so long.”

“Sorry, parking is a real problem around here, you know.”

He nods again, holds out his hand while remaining seated, offering her the seat across from him. As she pulls out her chair and sits down, she hears a woman in the adjacent table whisper, “There’s a real gentleman.”

After a moment of awkward silence, she finally sticks her hand across the table and says, “I’m Raney.” He takes her hand, shaking it with the grip and strength Mr. Whipple expected his costumers when they handle Charmin. “I’m Rob.”

“So Rob,” she asks, hoping to break the ice, “I hear you’re a real golfer.”

Yeah,” he says, “just this afternoon I did a quick round of 18 at the Parkside Links.”

“I don’t think that I know that course,” Raney admits, “Is it difficult?”

“You betcha,” he said. Rubbing his right arm, he acknowledged how his tennis elbow played havoc with his game. “I had an especially difficult time on the 18th hole. You know, it’s one of those holes where you have to putt through the rotating arms of a windmill.”

After another period of silence, Raney motions for the waiter and orders a glass of pinot. Rob also asks for another glass of wine. When the wine comes, Rob tips his glass toward Raney, throws back his head and chugs. To the surprise to both Raney and the waitress, whose mouths are gapped open, he pounds the empty glass on the table and asks for another. “Let’s make it something cheap this time,” he tells the waitress. Turning to Raney, he recalls a Bible Story about how in the old days, they served the best wine first, then after their senses were dulled, brought out the Boone’s Farm. “Some people don’t think the Bible is relevant today,” Rob continues, “but what I’ve gleamed from that little parable has saved me hundreds of dollars.”

We’ll, what did you think about the Lakers?,” Raney asks as she wonders if this is just a bad dream and hopes she’ll soon wake up.

“Did you see Kobe’s slam dunk at the end of the game last night. He can really put it into the hoop,” Rob acknowledges. “Reminds me of my doctor, did I tell you I just had a colonoscopy?”

“I think I missed that shot,” Raney admits, shaking her head.

“He got this long snake like thing, part camera and part rotor-rooter, and he puts it right through the hoop,” Rob continues, with hand illustrations to the horror of everyone in the establishment.

The waitress comes over with another glass. This time, he drinks it a little slower as he continues to talk about his recent medical problems.

They both finished their glass about the same time. “You know, Raney, one thing I can’t stand is for a woman to be a lush, you should nurse your alcohol more.”

“Another glass,” the waitress asked as she removed the empty glasses. “How about a glass of water for the little lady, and I’ll take a double,” Rob quickly orders. “Can I at least have a slice of lemon in my water?” Raney asks the bewildered waitress. “I hope you didn’t mind,” Rob says as he turns back to Raney, “I ordered for your convenience.”

“The Angels are hot this year,” Raney says out of desperation. “Did you see that Kotchman’s hit another triple yesterday afternoon? He was really moving when he rounded second.”
“Speaking of rounding the bases, do you know how that rotor-rooter thing makes those tight turns in your stomach? It just slides right around…”

Raney sat in stunned silence as Rob continues to share his experiences, adding every filthy detail and slurring more and more words as downs another couple glasses of wine.

When he finally pauses, gulping down the last of his wine, Raney seizes the moment. “Oh, I almost forgotten,” she says. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ve scheduled my dogs for a colonoscopy this evening. The vet’s changing overtime; I can’t be late, gotta save every dollar I can.” She excuses herself and walks quickly toward the door. Once safe in her car, she puts on sunglasses and a hat and slides down in the seat and waits. A few minutes later, Rob waddles out the door and heads toward a lime green 1970s-something Pinto. He gets in and fires it up. A belch of smoke is released as he swerves out onto the street.

Raney flips open her cell phone and dials. “I’d like to report a drunk driver heading south on…”